Trouble with Dames
by milk3002
Summary: Detective Olivia Benson hires a new assistant, but the blonde turns out to be much more than she seems.  Mystery and intrigue ensue. Not your average AU, so give it a try. A/O
1. Chapter 1

**An alternate universe set in the early 1940s, but hopefully one that lends itself to some fun and excitement. This is a**** collaboration with Jcbjazz, who offered some wonderful, inspiring ideas for this story and the scenes to follow. Special thanks :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SVU or the 1940s. Thanks.**

****Trouble with Dames****

****Chapter 1****

The streets were slick and gray under an ominous sky, whose clouds had just begun to spit rain down onto the half-empty sidewalks. Olivia Benson cursed as she pulled her coat tighter around her torso, wishing she had remembered to bring her hat, which still sat perched on the coat rack just inside her office door. She immediately felt the chill of the light rain, picking up her pace as she crossed the street toward the old, groaning building that served as both her watering hole and office. A small sign on the main door of the building indicated that Cragen's Bar was open for the day, but Benson was almost sure that it was empty. Don Cragen had the type of clientele that crept in after dark, mostly men wishing to avoid wives, mistresses, cops, anyone who probed too far or asked too many questions. It was one of the reasons that Benson had approached her old friend to let her set up her small, but thriving business in the apartment above the bar. As a private detective, the very men that many good citizens wished to avoid, she wanted to have right at her doorstep.

As she crossed the street, she bypassed her own private door, which entered into a narrow, drafty stairwell that led up to her office. Instead, she yanked open the door to Cragen's, running a hand through her wet hair and shaking the rain from her coat as she entered. The space was larger than it seemed from the outside, narrow, but deep, the bar trailing along the right side and a set of high booths trailing along the left. Benson had spent many a night seated at that bar while scoping out the hoodlums that did their business from the booths. The rain had brought in a few people, who sat chairs apart at the bar, minding their own business, their heads buried into their.

Benson walked over to the side of the bar where Cragen sat sifting through a pile of receipts from the night before. His entire operation was run by only himself, a cook, and a part-time bartender, but Benson knew that guy had friends both in high and low places. As a former cop, he had used each and every relationship to his advantage. She was sure that one or two of the regulars were being paid under the table as security, just to ensure the business that went on in the bar stayed as cordial as possible, whether legal or not. M

"Benson," he said gruffly, his head angled toward his receipts, the low, amber glow from the lighting reflecting off his bald head. "Where you been all day? Off trailing another rich Manhattanite who can't learn to keep his dick in his pants?"

Olivia took a seat beside him, giving her coat another shake and draping it over the bar. "I wish. At least those cases pay the bills." She sat down and let out a sigh. "I was returning a favor to Johnny Mason."

"Mason, huh?" Cragen licked the tip of his finger and continued to sort. "He ain't the type to be doling out favors in the first place."

"He is if it requires ratting out a rival."

Cragen raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes on his figures. "Surprise, surprise, he said. "Once a rat, always a rat." He reached over the bar, grabbed a bottle of scotch and two glasses with one gigantic hand. He sat them gently down in front of him, pouring them each a taste and sliding a glass to Benson. "What did good Johnny have you working on?"

Olivia picked up the glass, and took a long, slow sip before answering. "He had me checking up on one of his own guys."

Cragen shrugged. "Don't surprise me none. You rat as much as he does, you get paranoid. He's got lackeys to do that for him, though. Question is, why'd he call you in?"

Olivia paused. The man had a knack for reading in between the lines, for catching the subtlety behind most street decisions. "Well, he's paranoid all right. Paranoid all the way to the top. He had me follow Nicky Burns."

Cragen tore his gaze away from his bookkeeping for the first time since she'd walked in. "Burns, ay? He's pretty high level in the Lucky's chain of command, no?"

Olivia nodded. "Sure is." She took another sip of her drink, and turned her head towards the door as a man drifted in, dangling the bell on top of the door. The chime was more than just a signal to the owner. Cragen's patrons were the types of men that wanted to know whenever someone new walked into their surroundings. The guy looked about for a moment before heading to the other end of the bar, giving Cragen a nod as he passed. Olivia waited a beat, then continued. "Problem is, the guy didn't stray from his regular routine at all. If he's doing something off the books, he's doing it in the middle of a piss. I followed him pretty much everywhere, and got nothing."

Cragen stacked his receipts, placing them alongside a fat wad of cash in a faded, zippered cloth bag. Olivia had worked above the bar for the past five years, and had frequented it for years before, and she still wasn't certain as to where the man stored it. Wherever it was, she guessed it was where he had also stored all of his illegal liquor, which kept him as the only bar on the block during the sobering twenties. He glanced over at Olivia. "You talk to Munch lately?"

Olivia grimaced, and shook her head. "This isn't a paid job, Cragen. I'm not going to reach out to Munch unless I need him. The man's a limited resource."

Cragen shrugged his shoulder, sucked his teeth. "Suit yourself." He took a drink. "Just seems to me that if Mason's investigating his own right-hand man, then something's afoot in gangland. If there is some shakedown, seems you want to know what you're being dragged into. I'd talk to Munch." He could see the wheels turning behind Olivia's dark eyes as she took another sip of her scotch. He'd seen that look for years; it meant that whatever he said, he'd struck a nerve. He let out a small grin, satisfied with himself. "Oh yeah," he said, snapping a finger. "You got a visitor." He nodded his head toward the back of the bar. "And I can promise you, you ain't had a visitor like _this_ in a long time," he said, his small eyes gleaming.

Olivia followed his gesture towards the last booth in the row, where a woman sat, bright blonde hair cascading in soft waves down her blouse. The woman's back was to them, but with that hair and that poise, she had to be a bombshell. Olivia sighed. Another jilted wife, wondering why her husband was coming home later and later. Benson couldn't count the number of times she had comforted a beautiful, crying wife, who had been confronted with the ugly truth of her husband's infidelity. Most of the time the money and the lifestyle were too much to give up, the women convincing themselves over and over again that it was a fluke, a one-time mishap. She saw the same relationships play out in the mob circles: power and money kept people in line, kept them from rocking the boat, kept them docile.

Olivia turned her head back to Cragen, stared down into her near empty scotch glass. "I'm full up on cases right now, the last thing I need is a crying blonde on my conscience."

"That's because you don't know how to handle a woman, Benson. Besides, she ain't here for a case. She's answering that ad you put in the paper."

Olivia's brow furrowed. She'd gotten so few responses, she had almost forgotten about the ad she'd taken out for a secretary. She was guessing a second-rate job at a private detective's office housed over a bar didn't attract too many New York women. Benson glanced back over her shoulder, glimpsing the woman once more. One panty-hosed leg stuck out of the booth, seemingly endless, encased in a tall green heel, which matched the emerald of her blouse.

"She doesn't look like she's in need of a job."

Cragen shook his head. "Doesn't look like it from the front, either. Girl's a knockout."

Olivia shook her head, diverting back to the counter. "I don't have time for games," she mumbled into her glass, suddenly feeling like a schoolboy. "Hey," she said, giving a sidelong glance at Cragen. "Munch still teaching boxing over at the gym on 14th?"

The bar owner chuckled. "He ain't coaching, that's for damn sure. Betting, more like it. But you can probably find him there. They usually have a fight or two on Thursdays."

Olivia gave him a crooked smile. "I didn't think he could pull off the good samaritan schtick for long." She tipped her glass back, draining it before shrugging her damp coat back onto her shoulders. "I'm gonna go pay him a visit."

Cragen nodded. "Tell him to put five on his latest talent for me." He pulled a green bill out from his red cloth bag and stuffed into Olivia's hand. "Hey, what you want me to do with the girl over there?"

Olivia gave one last look over the length of the bar, a feeling just short of guilt passing through her. She shrugged it off. She didn't need the distraction of a beautiful girl. "Tell her the position's been filled."

Cragen cocked an eyebrow. "I ain't your girl friday, Benson."

She gave him a crooked smile, patting him on the shoulder as she walked towards the door. "But you make such a good one."

* * *

><p>The sun was setting, and the rain had stopped. Anywhere else in Manhattan, the suits would be rushing home, their briefcases knocking impatiently against their legs as they waited for the train. But along 14th, men lumbered gruffly down the pavement, dressed in shirtsleeves and dungarees, their eyes hard as they worked their way towards second-shift jobs. Olivia brushed past them without seeing them, her thoughts unfortunately not on her latest case, but instead stuck on the image of the blonde that she'd left sitting idly back at the bar. Why the hell was a woman like that looking to work with a bunch of lowlifes? Olivia shook her, head, forcing the woman from her mind. She found herself suddenly in front of the brick facade of Lennie's Gym, surprised that she'd made it so quickly. As she pushed open the door, the smell of sweat and rubber rose to meet her. Two young men were boxing inside the ring that sat in the center of the large warehouse, each of them pummeling their gloved fists towards helmeted heads. A few stragglers practiced around the periphery, throwing practice punches towards pads and boxing balls. The grunts, springs, and squeaks of sneakers echoed off the stark, concrete walls, which were adorned only with pictures of a few boxing legends, some local, some national, but all meant to be inspiring to the young men that frequented the gym. Olivia nodded towards the owner, who stood off behind a desk along the sidewall. His name wasn't Lennie. She wasn't even sure who Lennie was, or when he'd owned the place, but it had been around for years, attracting both kids and gamblers.<p>

She caught a glimpse of Munch leaning against a far wall, his long, lanky arms wrapped around his torso as he stared intently towards the ring. A pair of dark glasses covered his eyes, but Olivia could already feel his gaze dart towards her as she walked over to him.

"Benson," he said, as she approached. "Long time no see. I'm guessing you're not here to make a bet on the new talent."

Olivia glanced over at the ring. "Who's the talent?"

Munch nodded towards the taller boy, who was bearing heavily over the shorter one, his punches railing into his chest. "Ray O'Connor. Guy's got a left hook that'll send you right into next week. His coach has already booked him at fights across the city."

"I thought you were coaching."

Munch grinned. "That was a lofty retirement goal," he said with a flick of his wrist. "I'm a gambler at heart."

Olivia chuckled, leaning against the wall next to him. "Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel."

"Hey now." Munch glanced down at her. "Kind of like a cop," he said, and she could feel his eyes penetrating her through the frames of his glasses.

Olivia's eyes narrowed, and she wished she had a pair to cover her own eyes. "I'm not a cop."

Munch shook his head, a grin on his face. "No, you're too good for NYPD. Fuck 'em."

Olivia leaned off the wall, pacing a step or two, easing her own tension. "You got a minute?"

Munch waved his hands in front of him. "I'm retired. I got way more than a minute." He motioned for her to follow him, and they walked towards a back room, which seemed to be some sort of enlarged filing closet. It had a small desk in it, with a calendar hanging on the wall, a series of dates scribbled in, along with dollar figures. Olivia guessed Munch spent a lot of his time in this room, probably placing bets that were far from legal. "What do you not know, that you need to know?" he asked, closing the door lightly.

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest as Munch took a seat behind the desk, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands in front of him. "Heard about any shake ups with the Luckys?"

"Just the usual. Johnny's feeling a little paranoid. Talk is he's having some trouble with ol' Nicky."

"Damn right he is."

"What do you care?"

"He had me tail Nicky today. I'd be much happier if I knew I wasted my day because of something big, rather than Johnny's paranoid bullshit."

Munch ran his tongue across his teeth. Olivia knew him well enough to know that he was contemplating how much to tell her. Over the years, he'd always been gun shy about sharing too much, but Munch's problem was, he enjoyed knowing things, and he immensely enjoyed letting other people know how much he knew. Certain people, that is. Preferably those not in uniform. He sighed, then spoke. "Look. Word is the Luckys got something big shipping in soon. High caliber, like no no one in this city's ever seen. Not your usual rationed goods. But, Johnny's shitting bricks that the Rabbits are onto him."

"The Rabbits are always on him."

"Yeah, but Johnny's always one step ahead. And that's thanks to Nicky."

"And what, now Nicky's suddenly jumping ship?"

"I don't know." He leaned forward. "But what I do know is that the Rabbits don't give a shit about what the Luckys got coming down the pike. At least not right now. They got their own thing brewing."

"What?"

"I don't know that, either. Sheesh, Benson, you're making me look bad here. Ask me about the shit that I know."

Olivia chuckled, but continued, her voice serious. "So, what you're telling me is that I followed Nicky today for no reason."

"Consider it a day off."

Olivia grimaced. "I don't do days off."

Munch tilted his head back and chuckled. "If you don't make any money, Benson, it's a fucking day off."

Olivia brushed him off. "What do you with yourself all day? Retired and all?"

Munch pursed his lips. "As much information as I feed you, Benson, you should know I'm retired in name only."

Olivia nodded, putting her hand on the door knob. "I appreciate it, Munch."

"How's your boy Elliot doing?"

His mouth was straight, but Olivia knew his eyes were glazed with irony. She glanced back at him. "He's all right."

"Still working his way up to sergeant?"

"Get off his balls, Munch. He's not the one who put the vice down on your cronies."

"He's still NYPD. You think I'm a scoundrel, Benson, those are the real criminals." He punctuated his words with a pointed finger.

"Well, lucky for me, I'll never be one of those criminals. Thank you, gender discrimination."

"Get out of here with that feminist bullshit. I'm still reeling from the Noble Idea that you women rallied behind. Prohibition's one of the reasons I had to get out of the business."

Olivia rolled her eyes and opened the door, but quickly turned back toward Munch, dipping her hand in her pocket and pulling out the bill that Cragen had given her. "Five on your best for Cragen," she said, dropping the money onto the desk. She turned, walking out, grinning as she heard Munch mutter under his breath, "Cragen. What a fucking cheapskate."

* * *

><p>By the time she stepped out of the gym, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the moon had taken new prominence in the sky, it's beams reflecting over the rain puddles, still scattered across the streets. Olivia heard a splash behind her, footsteps moving fast towards her. She glanced behind her, hoping to step out of the stranger's way, who seemed to be in much more of a hurry than she was. An arm pushed roughly past her, the tall stranger looking back at her as he continued to walk, his eyes hidden by a low, gray hat resting on his forehead. The detective started to curse out at the man, but something held her voice back. Maybe it was the way he looked back at her, as if confirming that he knew her, but she held her tongue and instead increased her pace, diverting quickly toward another block.<p>

She kept her eyes alert as she made her way back to the bar, only slowing her pace once she caught a glimpse of the Cragen's sign glinting in the moonlight. She gave one last look around her, wondering if now she was becoming as paranoid as Johnny Mason, before pushing her way back inside the bar. The warmth was palpable, the noise level three notches higher than when she'd left. A blues song from the jukebox floated over the low murmur of male voices. The room was hazy with smoke as men stood at the bar, some laughing, some whispering behind cupped hands. Olivia sat back down at her seat at the end of the bar, once again shrugging off her coat. She'd say good night, then head back up to the office.

Cragen walked over, slipping her another scotch. "How's Munch?"

"I put your five down."

Cragen nodded. "I guarantee you I'll never see it again." He grinned, cocking his head toward the back of the room. "Your visitor is still here."

Olivia's lips dropped. "Still here?" She glanced back. Sure enough, the head of blonde hair still poked atop the booth. The pale slice of leg no longer appeared around the side of the booth, but Olivia was intrigued nonetheless, shifting in her seat. She looked back at Cragen, an uncomfortable feeling floating inside her. "You don't think she's been sent here, do you?"

He looked back, giving her a knowing look as he draped a hand towel over his shoulder. "Whoever sent that lovely piece to you has to be a friend, not an enemy."

Olivia rolled her eyes, and slid out of her chair, pushing her suspicion down. "I guess I'll go see what she's about."

She walked towards the back booth, giving an occasional nod at the hustlers that she knew occupying the booths along the wall. Her shadow crept along the surface of the table as she stopped and looked down at the woman. A pair of questioning blue eyes looked up at Olivia, framed by a beautiful, porcelain face. The woman looked like a movie star, certainly not like someone asking to be a secretary to a lowly detective. Benson spoke quickly, if only to prove to herself that this woman seated before her hadn't taken all of her breath away. "I'm Benson," she said, extending a hand. "Detective Olivia Benson."

The red lips parted in a demure smile as the woman slid from the booth, rising on a pair of long legs as she accepted Olivia's hand. Her fingers were smooth. "Detective Benson," she said, her voice low and silky. "Alex Cabot."

Olivia pulled her hand reluctantly away from the delicate, but strong hand and gestured towards the blonde's empty glass. Once again, she was surprised to hear her own voice sounding as smooth and as pulled together as it did. "Can I get you another drink?"

Alex nodded as she slid back into her booth. "That would be lovely. Bourbon, please."

Olivia raised an eyebrow, but waved over Cragen's other bartender as she settled into the booth across from the startlingly attractive young woman. "Two bourbons on the rocks," she said as the man meandered over to them, his eyes locked onto the blonde. Olivia gave his leg a quick kick, and he nodded, recovering as he sauntered back towards the bar. She looked back at the woman, and gave a slight smile. "You have to answer one question for me before we continue," she said. "What the hell is a girl like you doing applying for a job like this?"

The blonde seemed as if she had expected the question, but nevertheless a look of impatience flashed across her blue eyes. "I need a job. You're offering one."

Olivia nodded, but didn't back down. "You appreciate that in my line of work it's worth asking a few questions. Where'd you hear about the job?"

"The Sun. Seems to be the only paper you posted it in. Which leads me to believe that you weren't looking very hard."

Olivia swallowed, but kept her gaze level. The woman was already making assumptions. "Why do you want this job?"

The blonde nodded politely as the bartender set her drink down in front of her, and she brought the glass up to her red lips, taking a long sip. If the alcohol burned her delicate throat, she certainly didn't let on. Benson was intrigued, and that wasn't a good thing. "I'm on my own in the city," she said softly, and her eyes held a depth that her words didn't begin to cover. "And I want to do some good."

"Why don't you don an apron and head down to Catholic Charities? Hand out soup to the orphans." The words came out harsher than she'd meant them to.

The blonde's lips turned upwards in a smile, as if she were used to such suggestions, and even more used to ignoring them. "With all due respect, Detective, that's not where the excitement is."

"So you think excitement is following old, rich broad's husbands around to discover whether they're cheating or not? That sound exciting to you?"

"If it did, then I'd be in the wrong place. I know that's not the only type of work you do."

"That's the work that pays the bills."

Alex took another sip, and Olivia seemed to notice her own drink for the first time, picking it up and tossing it back. The blonde stared for a moment, her eyes moving slowly over the detective's features. She felt suddenly exposed, and she put her glass in front of her face and took another long sip.

"Detective, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't done my research. I've also had plenty of time to talk to Don Cragen since I've been waiting."

Olivia grimaced. Cragen had a weakness for blondes, and she was more than certain that this woman knew how to use her looks to her advantage. She was sure the bar ownder had uttered just enough to make the job sound intriguing, in an attempt to entice the blonde to stay for awhile. She'd deal with him later.

"This job is just a secretary. A girl-friday. You seem capable of much more than that."

"I could say the same for you. And yet, here you are, a lonely detective solving crimes that the NYPD won't touch. This world isn't necessarily made for head-strong women who know what they want."

Olivia didn't like the feeling of intimacy that descended over the table. She took another sip of her drink, feeling exposed by the blue gaze. If she kept sitting with this woman, she was sure she'd end up drunk in less than ten minutes. She a sudden urge to possess the woman, not to be analyzed by her. She shook her head.

"I'm afraid this job isn't, either. I need someone who wants to come in, file paperwork, make appointments, and return calls." She grimaced. "You don't look the type, sweetheart."

"And why is that?" the blue eyes challenged her. "I'm organized. I worked as a clerk before. I can handle figures, finesse people. I'm not asking for a higher wage than what you advertised."

Olivia shifted in the booth. She had no doubt the woman was more than capable. "You're looking for something that I can't give you."

The blonde nodded slowly, but her eyes still held a fierceness in them. "Detective," she said slowly, a finger trailing the rim of her glass, "do you often follow your gut in this line of work?"

Olivia let her glass clink slowly back to the table, letting her eyes lock fully with the woman's gaze. "Always."

Alex curled her lip slightly. "And what does your gut tell you?"

Benson swallowed. Her gut was telling her not to let this woman out of her sight, but her head was telling her that she would be a challenge; her groin was telling her something altogether different, and she clenched her thighs together. "My gut tells me that you won't take no for an answer."

Alex nodded, leaning forward. "I think you should trust your gut on this one," she said.

Olivia gave her a sidelong stare, then let out a low exhale. She may be signing up for trouble, but it seemed a worthwhile price to pay for another glimpse of the headstrong woman. She looked back at Alex. "Can you be here first thing in the morning?"

A smile lit up her face, and Olivia couldn't help but return it, feeling somewhat rewarded by the relief in the woman's expression. The blonde raised her glass, her blue eyes shining. "Cheers, Detective."

* * *

><p><strong>What's the word? Continue? Let me know what you think. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Trouble with Dames  
><strong>**Chapter Two**

The blonde attracted more than a sliver of attention as she slid out of the booth and glided towards the front door, cinching her coat tightly around her waist, which, contrary to her intentions, only served to accentuate her figure even further. Men tipped their hats towards her as she walked past, men that Olivia had seen crush jaws and break noses in less feminine company. She saw Cragen give her new assistant small wave, his bald head shiny with sweat. The detective would have rolled her eyes at the spectacle, but she still felt the an unmistakable current running from the side of the booth that Alex had just vacated. Whether she meant to or not, the blonde had kindled a lustful itch that Olivia needed to scratch before the night was over. Her brow furrowed in thought as the bartender walked up to her, clearing Alex's empty glass. "Who," he asked, his lanky frame angled towards the door, "was that?"

Olivia tipped the rest of her drink back and handed it over. "That," she answered, "is probably trouble."

"Seemed worth it from where I was standing."

"Lenny, Eleanor Roosevelt could walk in here and you'd get your rocks off."

He shrugged. "So, I like older women. What's it to you."

Olivia waved him off and climbed out of the booth, weaving her way back to the bar, where Cragen stood in a heated discussion with a fellow patron. "Don't yak back at me about the Yankees, Moody, you're not gonna bend my ear about that. I may be a bartender, but I draw the line at listening to insanity." He cut his eyes at Olivia, who tried to pass by him with a quick wave. "Benson, wait a second," he said, meeting her at the end of the bar. His eyes were sparkling with the adrenaline of what Olivia presumed was more than a sports argument. "So, your dame looked pretty pleased with herself when she left."

"Didn't seem like you were looking much at her face, Cragen."

He cut his eyes at her. "Hey. Ladies are respected in my bar, Benson, you know that. Alice would reach up and wring my neck from the grave if she ever caught me disrespecting a woman." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and ran it quickly over his head. "You gave her a shot, huh?"

"It's a trial period, that's all." Olivia shrugged on her coat, but couldn't help slipping a grin.

"What's her story?"

"She needs a job."

"I see you fell hard."

"I haven't fallen for anyone. What's wrong with classing up my office a little? I need an assistant, and she fits the bill."

Cragen nodded. "Sure. Well, for what it's worth, no one in here seemed to know who she was. If you _do_ know a girl like that, you certainly don't keep it a secret, not in a place like this."

Olivia looked around. "Yeah, I noticed. Keep your ear out, anyway. Like I said, it's a trial period."

"Oh, uh," Cragen wiped his hands on a towel, and leaned back toward the telephone, where he snatched up a scrap of receipt paper. Elliot called. Said to meet him at Crenlowe Park. Probably worth asking him about your new girl friday. They don't take too kindly to me calling down favors at the department anymore."

Olivia glanced down at her watch. "Tell me something I don't know. See you tomorrow, Cragen." She gave him a wink before walking out the door, its bell jangling as it closed behind her, shutting out the smoke, the noise, and leaving her to the quiet street, darkened street.

* * *

><p>The wet leaves were slick beneath her feet, and she took extra care in stepping across the entrance to the park. The rain had stopped, leaving a clear, moonlit night behind, but the benches along the park were still smattered with drops. She paced through the empty playground, allowing her mind to go as quiet as her surroundings. Only then could she truly focus, and let her instincts kick in. These were the times she felt safest: when her mind was clear, and her body ready. A quiet rustle of leaves sounded behind her, and she registered the interruption immediately, turning quickly. A voice called to her over the damp air. "Benson, think fast." Something whizzed through the air towards her, and Olivia reached up, catching the flying bottle with one hand. She looked down at it: a root beer.<p>

"You know, we did away with prohibition a few years back, Elliott. You could treat a girl to a beer and maybe a dry restaurant."

"This was all I had in the car. I bought some sodas for the kids this weekend."

Olivia popped it open with her belt buckle as he walked towards her, the two of them clearly the only ones occupying the small park. The playground was always eerily quiet at night, and she wondered why Elliott often suggested it as their meeting spot. Sure, they had played there as kids, but it seemed merely a ghostly reminder of pasts long forgotten. She took a sip of her soda and pushed the thought out of her mind. "Why don't you take in a game with me on Saturday?" she asked. "We can treat ourselves to some baseball and an adult beverage."

Elliott shook his head, sighing as he popped open his own bottle. "No can do."

Olivia glanced over at him. "You catch a weekend shift? I thought Lieutenant's didn't have to catch the shitty ones."

Elliott took a sip of his soda. "No. Unfortunately for me, Kathy is having a women's meeting this weekend. The girls are mine to occupy. Besides, Kathy's still chastising me for taking them to that Yankees game last season."

"Nothing wrong with girls enjoying baseball with their dad."

"See, why didn't I marry you? A woman who understands a man's needs.".

"Because we both know I'm not interested in a man's needs." She grinned. "How are the girls?"

"Besides wondering where their Aunt Olivia is? Fine."

Olivia gave him a chagrinned nod, trying to keep her tone light. "Work's been a little busy." It was half true. The other half, the fact that she felt a small warning signal every time she talked about her work with Elliott, she chose to ignore.

Elliott caught the tension and glanced down at the ground. "Your work is exactly that, Benson. _Your_work. Not mine. Whatever you got going on, it's all yours, I'm not here on official NYPD business. You know that."

Olivia nodded, glad that the darkness kept the flush from showing in her cheeks. Elliott knew her better than anyone, had known her longer than anyone. He could read her like a book, a skill that few people had, but that she was more often than not glad that he possessed. "Nevertheless," she said, hating the casual way the lie slipped from her lips, "I've just been caught up with the usual petty cases." The two told each other everything, she felt a quick pang of shame rise in her belly. Still, some days the police seemed as corrupt as the criminals she tried to avoid. She wouldn't put Elliott in a situation where he had to choose.

She felt Elliott sigh beside her, saw his breath moving through the air under the moonlight. He changed the subject. "I heard you hired a secretary."

"Cragen needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut."

Elliott laughed. "He doesn't budge on the stuff that matters, though. I know that better than anyone," he said, a wave of resentment undulating in his voice. "Who's the girl? Cragen said she gave Lana Turner a run for her money."

"She's definitely easy on the eyes," she said.

"That why you hired her?"

Olivia gave him a snicker and a shove on the shoulder, but it only bought her time. She knew why she had hired the woman. She had seen a hunger in the blue eyes, some unfulfilled, driving force that seemed to emanate from the woman's presence. It was that hunger that had piqued Olivia's attention. She had recognized it in herself. But, to Elliott she just shrugged. "She fit the bill. I just need someone around to answer the phones, console the housewives after they find out their husbands have been cheating on them."

Elliott nodded. "You definitely need some help in classing the place up."

"Her name's Alex Cabot. You mind running that for me? Finding out anything you can?"

"At your service, Detective." He leaned against a pole. "I'll see what I can find." He gave her a small smile. "You know, you should hire someone _after_ you check them out."

Olivia shrugged. The blonde had challenged her, and she appreciated it on some inane level. "I feel like taking chances lately."

Elliott nodded, his expression a bit wistful as he glanced up at the sky. "Captain's really coming down on me about my numbers in the 23rd."

Olivia questioned him. "What's he expect, it's Skid Row." She moved her toe across a patch of mud, looking sideways at him. "It's also Rabbit territory."

Elliott glanced at her. "Yup."

"Rabbits have never had a problem with NYPD before."

A shrug. "You got me. Things are changing, Liv. Sometimes I can't tell who's in who's pockets, who's controlling who." His eyes roved across the playground, but they had a faraway look. "You know, I joined the force because I wanted to put the bad guys in jail. Make a difference. Only thing that's happened is that I can't tell the difference between the force and the bad guys."

Olivia smirked, her expression taking the comment lighter than she really did. "Well, join the club. It's an ends to a mean, right?"

Elliott looked back at her. "Maybe for you and your one-woman operation. You know where you stand, you choose your partners, you know who to trust. But sometimes I just can't tell." He sighed.

"Elliott, you know the rule as well as I do: only trust yourself."

"And your mother."

Olivia snorted. "Maybe _your_ mother."

Elliott grinned. "Hey, you always knew where you stood with your Ma. Alcohol before blood." He ribbed her with his elbow. Elliott Stabler was the only person walking the earth that was allowed to talk about Olivia Benson's mother in such a way. Anyone else spouting such truths would risk a quick jab to the nose. Elliott looked back at her. "You need to crash tonight?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm a little riled. I may grab a drink at Birdie's."

Elliott raised an eyebrow at her. "You see Nan over there, you let her know to keep her girls under control."

"Nan doesn't have any 'girls,' Elliott. She's not in that business."

"Well, something's going down in that area over there. A lot of money is changing hands over a lot of girls." He shook his head, tossing his soda bottle into a nearby trash can. "You could be sleeping with the enemy, Liv. Just be careful."

Olivia shook her head, anger slowly rising in her chest at her friend's double entendre. "It's over with Nan, Elliott. We're friends. And if anyone would know what she was up to, it's me. I suggest you talk to the Rabbits about your new prostitution problem."

Elliott sighed. "You never know, Liv." He paused, looking back at her. "I tell you this all the time," he said, and Olivia nodded, already anticipating his words. "But, you gotta be careful being involved with these guys. Just leave the gangs behind and stick with the housewives and the petty thieves. They'll pay the bills."

"Come on, Elliott, I don't need you looking out for me."

"Oh no? Who else is looking out for you, then?" He hit a nerve, and he knew it. For as long as he could remember, he had been like a sheltering brother to Olivia. As a child, the detective was more often than not over at his home. He watched his own mother take care of the smaller girl like her own, and he had taken her under his wing quickly, introducing her to mud pies, slimy worms, and baseball. He liked to think that's where the detective got her gut.

"Maybe I'm looking out for _you_," she replied, ignoring the point on purpose. "I feed you some valuable information."

Elliott raised an eyebrow at her, but she saw the concern behind his eyes. "You're not my only informer," he said.

"Maybe not," Olivia said, rising to her feet. "But I'm the only one you can truly trust." She nodded back at him. "I'll see you and the kids on Saturday. Tell Kathy I'm offended I wasn't invited to her women's club meeting."

Elliott laughed. Oh, I'm sure you're hurting inside over that one, Benson." He waved her off. "Get out of here." He watched her disappear into the shadows, but stayed for a moment, breathing in the cold air.

* * *

><p>The streets were quieter now as she walked back to her office. As late as it was, she didn't feel like trekking to her apartment. The sound of breaking glass sounded against the pavement, and a shriek darted out of an open window. Olivia made sure to stay on her own side of the street, avoiding any melodrama. Cragen's was still lit up, the amber light flickering from fogged windows. Olivia bypassed the bar's door, and headed towards her own private entrance, the "Private Detective" nameplate hidden in the dark. She saw the orange glow of the end up a cigarette bobbing near her door. The figure stepped forward out of the shadows, the cigarette encased by a set of thin lips and a bulbous jaw. Once her fear had fully subsided, Olivia couldn't help but roll her eyes. "The office is closed," she said with a casual flick of her wrist.<p>

"Well, that's good then, seeing as I ain't here on official business." The large man sucked on his cigarette, his already humongous chest puffing out even more as he inhaled. His hair was slicked back high on his forehead, wet and shining in the low light. Olivia could barely see his small eyes, which peeked out of tiny, squinted sockets.

The detective crossed her arms over her chest, impatience seeping into her expression. "Well? What do you want, Slim?"

The larger man took a long puff on his cigarette, intentionally delaying his answer.

"If you're gonna blow your smoke in a woman's face, at least offer her one," Olivia chastised.

"My fault, Benson. Didn't realize I was talking to a lady."

Olivia thought about reaching for her key and yanking open her office door, but she didn't want to take the chance on Slim following her upstairs. He was a wild one. Public scenes with him were always better than private ones.

"Johnny wants to see you tomorrow. Last minute meeting."

"No kidding it's last minute. Tell him I've got real, paying clients, and that I'm booked tomorrow."

Slim shook his bulbous head. "No can do. He wants to see you at 10:00am, at the dock location. Said he had a new development he wants you to follow up on."

Olivia shook her head. She wasn't some lackey to the mob. "What the hell kind of development?"

"Don't know, and I'm not paid to care. I'm just delivering a message."

Olivia cocked her head. "You do it so well. You know, Slim, I just hired a new secretary. You two should sit down one day, and compare girl-friday notes."

This time the smoke blew directly into her eyes, and Olivia stepped forward and snatched the smoking bud from the larger man's pudgy fingers. She dropped the lit cigarette onto the damp ground, and smudged it out with her shoe. She didn't take her eyes off of Slim's, even though she wasn't looking forward to the punch that she was sure was coming her way. The small, slitted eyes widened as much as they could, and she could practically see the smoke coming from his ears. The bell to Cragen's jangled harshly behind them, and a couple of regulars bared out against the cold.

"Hey, Slim!" one of them called, waving. "You losing weight, pal, I could barely see you over there!"

Slim eased back, and Olivia used the moment to take a step away from him, clearing the space between them enough so that an arm the size of a ham wouldn't round out at her. "More for the ladies to love!" Slim shouted back, and he gave Olivia a snide smile as he took a step forward. She steeled herself in her spot, but he merely leaned down toward her ear. "Johnny will be expecting you tomorrow at 10:00." He brushed past her, his large bulk pressing her into the cold brick of the building. She grimaced, but considered herself lucky, and watched him walk towards the other men, his coat swaying around his bulky figure.

She sighed, leaning against her own door, and quickly slipped inside. She already felt a familiar anxiety quickening in her gut, a feeling that she rarely liked to acknowledge. She took the narrow stairwell up to her office, slipping inside and tossing her wet coat onto the desk just inside the door. She went immediately for the scotch in her small, but private office, taking a seat at her desk and letting the alcohol warm her. Even through her anxiety, the detective could still feel a slight tingle in her spine at the thought of her new blonde hire. She could definitely release some of that tension at Birdie's, the only club in the city that catered to women, but instead she poured herself another drink, and shuffled through a few papers on her desk, finding a few blank sheets of paper and a pen. If she were meeting with Johnny Mack tomorrow morning, she had better have something to tell him.

* * *

><p>A loud knock broke the silence and Olivia pulled herself out of her stupor, her head feeling heavier than her body. The morning sunlight shined through her small window, reflecting brightly off the still damp streets. She lumbered off of the couch she kept in her office, her notes from the previous night fluttering from their resting spot on her stomach to the floor. She could see Alex's outline through the frosted glass of the door, and even the blurred image sent a tingle down her spine. She tried to ignore it, huffing it away as she pulled open the door. Alex stood on the threshold, her thin frame encased in a pencil skirt and a delicate blue blouse, which unfairly magnetized her eyes, drawing Olivia's gaze immediately towards them.<p>

"Good morning," Alex said brightly. "I hope I'm not too early," she said a little more quietly, glancing down at the delicate watch that wrapped around her wrist. "You said to come first thing." Her eyes trailed slowly over the bags under Olivia's eyes.

"No, no," the detective said, stepping aside to allow Alex to brush past her. Normally, she couldn't sleep through the night, the early morning hours being particularly rough for her. She wondered how much she'd drank the night before, and shook her head, attempting to clear it. She looked at the room through Alex's eyes: newspapers scattered across the small desk, file folders piled on a straight-backed chair in front of it, and the chair that was supposed to be behind the desk was nowhere in sight. Olivia gazed around, and finally spotted it pushed against a far window. She pushed it back behind its rightful place with her foot, and scooped up a pile of newspapers, dumping them into the trash can beside the desk. "Sorry for the mess. I got roped up in a case last night."

Alex wore a bemused expression as she glanced around the room. "I take it you've never had an assistant before?"

Olivia's tried to smile, but before she'd had a cup of black coffee, she was pretty useless. "Or a maid," she said, gesturing towards the mess.

"Are you sure you want me to start today?" Alex asked uncertainly.

Olivia laughed. "Now is as good a time as any." She gestured toward the seat behind the desk, encouraging Alex to sit. She slipped off her coat and held it over her arm for a moment, watching as Olivia moved the stack of filing folders from the chair in front of the desk to the floor. The detective nodded towards the door. "Uh, let me take your coat," she said, walking towards the unused coatrack that sat neglected by the door. She turned back towards the desk, and gestured. "Might as well have a seat at your new desk. Give it a spin."

The blonde smiled, taking a seat gracefully, her eyes watching attentively as the detective moved to the chair in front of the desk. The two stared at each other for a moment, Alex waiting expectantly, and Olivia waiting for a supervisory thought to pop in her head. She wasn't the best at managing. She worked best with people that could read her. "Look," she sighed, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "I need help with simple bookkeeping, tracking appointments, payments. All the behind the scenes stuff."

Alex nodded. "If I remember correctly, that's what assistants are for." She gave a warm smile, which caught the detective off guard. She didn't imagine those icy blue eyes could hold such warmth. Alex fingered a well-worn calendar that lay on the desk, flipping the pages once, twice, three times to get to the current month. "I take it you're not using this?" she asked, the same amused expression on her features.

Olivia shook her head. "It's all yours. I keep most everything in my head."

"Good then." She picked up a pencil from a nearby pile of papers and looked expectantly up at Olivia. "Maybe you should let me in your head a little?" Olivia was surprised to see a faint blush creep into her cheeks, and she smiled, a little amused as the blonde clarified her statement. "I mean, I don't want to double-book you or anything."

Olivia nodded, glancing at her watch. "I've actually got a 10:00 today with Johnny - " she paused, cutting herself off abruptly. "A 10:00 with a client, but I'm not sure how long it will take. It could put me out of commission all day." She felt a flicker of anxiety run through her. Not only at the thought of her appointment with Johnny Mack, but also the thought of leaving her new employee in the office alone. As sure as she felt about the woman when she looked at her, she also didn't trust her own instinct when it came to beautiful women. They had, after all, gotten her into trouble on many occasions.

Alex looked around the disheveled office. "I don't mind organizing some things today. It will give me a chance to get acquainted with the office."

That was exactly what Olivia was afraid of, but she nodded. She'd ask Cragen to keep an eye out. Based on his reaction to the blonde the night before, he surely wouldn't have a problem with that. The phone rang, its sound muffled, and Alex shuffled for a moment before moving Olivia's coat off the phone and picking it up. "Detective Benson, Private Eye."

Olivia held back a smile at the formal greeting. Rarely did she answer her phone with more than a muffled, "Benson."

Alex's placed her hand over the speaker, raising an eyebrow. "A Mr. Slim wants to speak with you?"

Olivia pursed her lips, leaning over and snatching the phone from Alex's hand. "What?" she answered gruffly, standing and turning her back towards the desk. She lowered her voice, and could feel Alex's eyes on her. "Shit, Slim, why the hell is Nicky gonna be there?" She slammed a fist into the desk, causing Alex to jump slightly. "Yeah, I'll make sure to tell Johnny is girl friday deserves a raise." Her words were bitter, and she turned, dropping the phone back into its holder, her eyes dark. She met Alex's gaze, and immediately swallowed, forcing her anger into a cool place in her gut. "Sorry about that," she said.

Alex shook her head, masking the curiosity in her eyes. "Speaking of clients... do you have a list lying around here? It might help if I become a little familiar with them."

Olivia couldn't help but give a slight grin. The blonde clearly had no idea what she was in store for. She motioned for Alex to follow her into her private office and pointed towards an overstuffed filing cabinet, with one door hanging from a hinge. Alex peered into the dilapidated monstrosity, as if afraid of what she would find inside. She reached in and plucked out a menu to a burger joint, which looked as if it had been smeared with grease. She raised it questioningly.

"That's a client, actually," Olivia replied, chagrinned. "I did some work on a couple of robberies for Lou. He owns the place."

Alex nodded slowly. "And ate a few burgers, I see," she said, dropping the menu back into the cabinet and wiping her hands free of the grease.

"His burgers are legendary," Olivia offered, her voice trailing off as she gave an innocent shrug.

Alex gazed around the rest of the room, noting the strewn clothes across the couch, the small door off to the side that looked as if it led to a restroom. "Do you live here?" she asked. Olivia followed her gaze. Seeing it now, through those beautiful blue eyes, she was sure Alex wouldn't stick around too long. Not for a meager salary in a dump of an office. The blue eyes still stared questioningly at her. "No," she answered, with a shake of her head. "Not technically." Technically, she was nomad, never really able to keep still. She stored most of her things in a rundown apartment near the harbor. But with a hot shower right inside her office, she spent many nights at the office. What did an insomniac have need for a bed anyway?

Alex nodded. "Is there a list of monthly bills and expenses that need to be paid?" She followed the detective's gaze over to the desk, where a shoebox sat stuffed over with receipts. Alex's lip dropped open as she took a slow step towards the detective's archaic filing system. Olivia couldn't help but grin at the horrified expression. "I think I'll start with a little organizing, if that's all right," she said quietly, as if still trying to comprehend the complete lack of organization. She recovered quickly, and straightened her blouse, as if the disheveled surroundings had suddenly seeped into her own appearance. She smiled lightly as she walked back towards the outer office, giving Olivia a knowing look as she brushed past her. "You're lucky I came along."

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are encouraged and very much appreciated. Thanks :)<strong>

**And again, thanks to Jcbjazz for the wonderful inspiration.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Trouble with Dames  
>Chapter 3<strong>

The dock was lively. Mechanical cranes groaned, slowly moving freight from ship to shore as workers scattered over boat railings, heaving and grunting as they unloaded cargo from massive, churning ships. Olivia sipped from a cup of coffee. A small paper bag, emblazoned with a generic bakery logo, bounced against her leg as she walked. The coffee was acceptable, but the cannoli were why she had stopped, hoping the legendary pastries would give her some leverage . The sky was gray across the water, and the breeze floated a wet smell towards her. Olivia searched the busied landscape for Mack's warehouse. She had visited only once before, not that the gang leader knew it. It was a private job more than a year ago, after Elliott had asked her to help him out on a murder case. Still, the warehouse was in the exact spot she remembered it. A nondescript, colorless building, that generally matched in with the gray surrounding the harbor. Only a stenciled "MACK INDUSTRIES" differentiated it from the other warehouses that sat along the street facing the water.

Olivia walked up to a small door and banged her fist. Slim slid open the door a crack. "Well, look who it is, bright and bushy tailed. Nice to see you again, Benson."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "If you'd open the door, you could see me a lot better." A grinding click sounded from inside and the door open with a heavy creak. "Always a smart ass remark crossing your lips, Benson."

Olivia ignored the reprimand and instead gave him a patronizing smile. "You appreciate my wit, Slim." She wanted him in a good mood, which is one of the reasons she'd spent weekly coffee budget on a cannoli from an upscale bakery. Maybe she'd be able to get some information out of him. "Breakfast?" She held up the paper bag and Slim snatched it from her, dipping his nose into it. He took out a pastry and bit into it, the cream oozing out of the opposite end. "Not bad." He swallowed, and his eyes lit up with a new thought. Slim was not a complicated animal. "Hey. Your new gal friday as pretty in person as she sounds over the phone?" He took another bite of the cannoli, and completed his thought with a full mouth. "A voice like that, she's gotta be a dead ringer for Gene Tierney."

Olivia watched him chew. "I can only hope for her sake, that you'll never find out."

Slim raised an eyebrow and gave her a slick, wet smile. "I can always pay her an office visit."

Olivia ignored the comment, choosing to focus instead on the dab of white pastry cream at the corner of Slim's mouth. She changed the subject. "What's Johnny cooking up, Slim?"

He took another quick chomp out of the pastry, leaving merely a nub behind, and dropped it back into the bag. He tossed it disgustedly back to Olivia with a shake of his head. "A shitty pastry doesn't buy you anything these days, Benson." Olivia felt another pang of anxiety. Both her money and her sense of calm thrown down the drain. "But," Slim continued, brushing the crumbs from his hands, "I wouldn't let it worry your butch little head. Nicky's the one that should be sweating bullets. If only he had a clue." Slim let out a wheezed chuckle.

Olivia decided to run with what little Slim gave her. "You don't like Nicky much, do you?"

Slim looked down at her with a hint of disdain. "That's how my Ma would put it. Truth is, I could put his balls in a vice and listen to that little shithead squeal until his voice was gone."

"Why is that?"

Slim reduced her with a look. "I don't trust him."

Olivia shook her head, unconvinced. "I followed him all day yesterday, Slim, and I didn't catch anything unusual."

He gave her a calculating look. "Maybe you didn't know what to look for."

The door behind them clicked open once again, and Johnny Mack sauntered inside. His body was encased in a coat that framed him like wardrobe, the sleeves broadening his shoulders and adding a sense of girth to his tall, thin frame. His full head of hair made him look youthful, even if the lines around his mouth and under his eyes told the story of his age. Another man walked in behind him, a figure Olivia was all too familiar with after following him for most of the week. Nicky Burns was of average build, and a bit stocky. If he wasn't a gangster, he'd have made a killing in the boxing sector. He was compact, his shoulders slightly hunched forward, his arms bent at the elbow, always ready to throw the first punch. He carried a small paper bag in one of his balled fists, and tossed it over to Slim as they approached.

"Breakfast," he said gruffly. He looked at Olivia for a second, and the detective kept her gaze level. The last thing she needed was to let Nicky knew she recognized him. His eyes flitted over her, unmoved, and she felt the first wave of relief she'd felt all morning.

Johnny clapped his hands together once and rubbed them together in an eager motion, waving the three of them into a back office, where one glassed wall allowed the man to monitor the business going on in the large, mostly empty warehouse. Johnny took a seat in the chair behind a small desk, which was surprisingly neat, an indication of how obsessive the gangster was about his business. Word had it that he was extremely compulsive about his appearance and the appearance of everything in his presence. He'd once shot a hat off of an associate's head once because it was stained and frayed at the edges. The associate said it was a lucky hat, which everyone supposed it was, seeing as how Johnny had such good aim that the man was left completely unharmed. Slim sat down with a creak in a chair at the back of the room, and Nicky took a seat in a chair in front of Johnny's desk. He kicked the accompanying chair out to Olivia, but didn't look up at her. She sat, wishing she could see Slim behind her. She didn't normally position herself with a blind side. She guessed Johnny knew this, and that's exactly why Slim stayed put behind them.

"Detective Benson, thanks for taking the time to meet us here on such short notice." Johnny was nothing if not cordial. He leaned forward in his chair, and clasped his hands under his chin. "We got a little problem in the East Side. Seems like the Rattlers are starting to hone in on the harbor." He leaned back in his chair. "There's a cat by the name of Louis Dynokas. People call him Dino. He's becoming a thorn in my side."

"More like a ship in your harbor," Nicky offered. Olivia glanced over at him. If he was aware of his own joke, he didn't show it. His face stayed entirely stoic.

Johnny glanced over at him, and gave him an affirming nod. "Nicky's got the right idea. Last thing I need is the Rattlers bringing attention to this harbor by engaging in illicit activities."

Olivia kept herself from rolling her eyes. Clearly, Johnny wanted the profit on any illegalities occurring in the harbor. Still, she was confused by his line of thought, and knew that he was posturing solely for Nicky's sake. But she knew enough to nod her head and keep quiet, to wait and see where he would take things.

"So," he continued, glancing at Nicky before turning his focus back onto the detective. "Just stay on Dino for a couple of days, see what you can get on him. I got no problem letting NYPD run with whatever you find."

A pause let Olivia know she should probably say something. She snuck a glance at Nicky, who was staring at her, and gave Johnny a quick nod, unsure as if she was supposed to put up a fight or not. But, if Johnny was really wanting to play along, she'd give him a good time. "Fine. It's $75 a day."

Johnny's eyebrows raised. He clearly wasn't expecting this portion of their improvisation, which is what he got for not letting Olivia in on the script. "$60," he countered.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "$75."

Johnny laughed. "Clearly no one's told you the ins and outs of bargaining. You're supposed to cave in a little, Detective." He sighed. "Done deal. I can't say no to a beautiful woman."

Olivia heard Slim snort from behind her, and she wished she had been close enough to kick him. A loud buzz sounded throughout the warehouse, and Johnny glanced through the glass wall. He looked over at Nicky. "You want to handle that shipment, Nick? And let Wally know that next time I expect it on time."

Nicky nodded, looking relieved, as if the last place he wanted to be was sitting with his boss in the same office. Olivia recognized the relief, she'd had it herself many a time. Nicky loped out the door, his shoulders hunched, his fingers still balled into unintentional fists. His shoes echoed across the warehouse, their clicks audible inside the office, and Olivia watched as he walked over to the garage door and raised it, revealing a large truck truck. Slim shut the door with an echoed bang, and Johnny's face transformed slowly, his smile just barely etching over the normal purse of his lips. Olivia tried to wait him out, but her anxiety got the best of her. "What the hell was that about? The Rattlers are content with gambling, there's no way they're eyeing the harbor."

Johnny laughed, enjoying her confusion. "Of course not. That's just what I wanted Nicky to think."

Olivia breathed a sigh of relief.

"I want you to survey the Rabbits."

Olivia looked sharply at him. "Hell no."

Johnny's gray eyes were level with hers, and his tone was businesslike and even. "I'll be honest with you here, Detective. The Rabbits are one of the Burrough's biggest, most powerful gangs - "

"Along with yours. The Luckys are just as powerful - "

"And I'd like to stay that way. But, that's not the only reason I'm asking for your assistance. I'm also a little concerned at the way the Rabbits are choosing to play the game here. They're not being honorable."

Olivia gawked at him. "And what's honorable about the way you do business?"

Johnny raised his hands defensively. "Hey, now, Benson, you know I don't like violence. I don't like tipping the threads if I don't have to. And I'm always respectful." He shrugged. "The Rabbits, on the other hand..." He got up from his chair and pointed toward a map of Manhattan that hung over the desk. His finger trailed across a portion of the Burrough not too far from Olivia's office, an area just below 14th Street. "Last month, a girl was found murdered here," he said. "Cops chalked it up to the economics of Skid Row, but I don't buy it." He turned to look back at Olivia. "This here is Rabbit territory. They've been moving girls in and out for the past three months."

Olivia shrugged. "Prostitution's the oldest professional around, Johnny. I'd imagine you've contributed to many a girl's wallet yourself."

Johnny flashed her a dangerous smile. "This ain't the usual business. Rabbits ain't just selling a night or two here and there. They're selling the girls."

Olivia's ears perked up. "What do you mean?"

Johnny seemed content that he finally had her attention, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I have reason to believe the Rabbits are dealing in some serious arms coming in from the harbor. They're trading guns for the girls."

"How do I know you're not making all of this up? And if it is true, then why not just go to NYPD?"

"Because I don't need NYPD trying to make a case just yet. The Rabbits have their sleeve in the DA's office. If NYPD even looks like it's cracking down, the DA will shut the case down."

Olivia distinctly remembered Elliott's words from earlier. His boss wanting him to up his patrol in same district. She shook her head. "I'm not getting in the middle of a gang war."

Johnny gave her a winning smile. "I think you already are." He raised himself up off his chair, and circled the desk, perching on the edge of it and baring down on the detective. "In fact, I can think of at five reasons why you'll take this assignment." He raised his hand, and began ticking off fingers. "Elliott Stabler, Kathy Stabler, little Rebecca and Marjorie Stabler, and the good ol' Donald Cragen."

Olivia's eyes narrowed, and she felt her heart beat quicken. Johnny chuckled. "It's just a shame I didn't have more to choose from." He thought for a moment. "You're not one to get close to too many people, are you, Benson?"

"You make one move on any of them, I'll report everything I've got on you to NYPD in a hot second," Olivia said.

Johnny laughed, his head tossed back. "Benson, you and I both know I've got more connections at NYPD than you ever will." He leaned into her. "I can destroy Elliott in more ways than with just a bullet to the head, remember that." He leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest. "The Rabbits are moving something big, and I have reason to believe that Nicky may trying to work both ends of the system. Everything I'm feeding him is a load of bullshit. Now that he thinks you're tailing the Rattlers, he's bound to get a little sloppy. And when he does, I want you there to document the evidence I need to shut down the Rabbits for good." He paused, and pushed his hand through his hair. "Now. I'm a fair businessman, I know the positives of sleeping on a proposal. I'll give you until Monday morning. Then I'll have Slim pay you a little visit, how's that?"

Olivia didn't answer, but Johnny smiled, and straightened himself, placing his hands in his pockets. "Always a pleasure, Benson."

"Slim, do you mind escorting Benson outside?" The larger man wiped his hands and stood, his chair groaning in relief at the unburdening of the weight. Olivia sat for another moment, not giving Johnny the satisfaction of thinking that she wanted out of the office, even though she desperately wanted some air. She stood after a moment, and gave him a winning smile, if only to cover the fear that seemed to be creeping up her spine. "I hope you can keep track of all the yarn you're spinning," she said. "I'd hate for you to get caught in your own web of lies." She tipped her head toward him before moving towards the door, following Slim's loquacious waddle.

Slim opened the side door, and followed her out, pulling a cigarette out of his case. "Don't fume to hard there, Benson. You'll explode."

Olivia squinted up into the sunlight, which reflected in sharp glints off the roof of the warehouse. "When I'm mad, Slim, you'll know it. I'm a little annoyed that I'm wasting my time with this elementary ball-game you guys have going on."

Slim laughed, not believing her for a second. "What, you mad at Johnny cause he's a better businessman than you? Or that he's got more ties to the cops than you?"

Olivia felt her fist shoot out, catching the larger man hard in the gut. If she'd really wanted to do some damage, she would have gone for the throat, but she only wanted to release some steam. Still, the punch left Slim more than gasping for breath. "Goddamn it, Benson," he said, pushing her roughly against the wall. "I swear to God, you're gonna be the first woman I ever hit."

Olivia breathed just as hard as he did, her anger seething out of her in ragged breaths. "Pent up frustration," she said. "Sorry."

He looked back at her. "You pack a nice punch." He raised an eyebrow. "Do it again and I'll make sure that crooked smile of yours is permanently disfigured." He took out another cigarette, and lit it calmly. "Enjoy your weekend. Be ready to work come Monday."

"I haven't agreed to anything."

Slim laughed and brushed past her, creaking open the door. "You will," he said, leaving her behind.

* * *

><p>Olivia trudged slowly up the stairs, her knuckles only slightly sore from her punch to Slim's intimidating gut. She'd spent the rest of the day following up on two paying clients: one, a man who suspected his wife of having an affair, and the other a woman who suspected her husband of sleeping around. Two different cases, but they only served as a reminder as to why Olivia didn't have the time nor the will for a relationship. She flexed her fingers, grimacing only slightly. Who would have thought Slim's bulbous gut could be that solid of a mass? Physical harm was of little consequence to her. In fact, it was preferable over the worry that plagued her, the thought of any ill will put towards Elliott or his kids at her actions. She was in a bind. She pushed open the door to the office, but found herself suddenly transported into what seemed to be another realm. She did a double take, only recognizing the office as her own as Alex appeared in the doorway. The front room seemed ten times bigger, the clutter now gone, and two new file cabinets behind the desk. The front desk was polished and bare, the only thing sitting on the top of it a typewriter and a pad of paper. A filing cabinet stood behind the desk, and a black inbox sat on top of it, sheltering several letters. Alex gave her a pleased smile. "I left your client records in your office, in the filing cabinet." She tossed Olivia a small key, which Olivia fumbled before catching in her fingers. "That's your key." She dangled another in front of her. "And mine. Try to keep it locked. The last thing we need is a confidentiality lawsuit."<p>

Olivia murmured the only thing that came to mind. "Wow." She took the few steps toward her own office, brushing slightly past the blonde as she peeked inside The filing cabinet now stood behind Olivia's desk, its door no longer hanging crookedly open. She almost shuddered at the organization. Her eyes were drawn immediately to her desk, and she walked over to it. The shoebox was long gone, and in its place was a nice, leather notebook with a sturdy ballpoint pen. The couch was bare, her shirts and trousers no longer littered across it. Alex walked in behind her. "I've scheduled you three new client meetings for next week. I thought I'd at least make your office somewhat presentable." Olivia shook her head, still stunned into silence by the cleanliness. Had her office always been this big?

"I'm not sure how I'll find anything," she said, trailing a finger along her desk. Alex took a step toward her. "It's my job to find things for you," she said, "and your job to find things for clients." She handed over a small envelope containing several receipts. "For the notebook and a few office supplies. Just thought you'd want to look over them. I used the petty cash."

Olivia looked over at her. "Petty cash?"

Alex stared blankly back at her. "There was an envelope full of cash in my desk drawer. I assumed it was petty cash." She raised an eyebrow as Olivia gave an unconvincing nod. "What is your accounting system, exactly?"

Olivia shrugged. "I make money, I put it in the bank."

"Except for the random, stray envelope of cash that you leave lying around?"

There wasn't judgment in her voice, but Olivia found the comment grating nonetheless. Had she hired an assistant or a nag? "You never know when you'll need it."

"I started a small accounting book, if you'd like to see it."

As if the detective could refuse. She followed her assistant back out into the front room, catching herself as she let her eyes roam down Alex's nylon covered legs. She quickly averted her gaze as the younger woman turned toward her and slid a perfectly neat notebook, full of graphed lines, out onto the desk. Olivia glanced around, asking the question that had nagged her since she walked inside. "How did you move those filing cabinets all by yourself?" Aside from a couple of strays hairs that framed her face, Alex looked as if she had been posing for modeling pictures all day rather than lugging furniture around a dusty office all.

Alex smiled. "Oh, Don helped me. He's such a gentleman."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'll bet he was."

"He stopped in quite a bit. I imagine at your prompting." She looked up at Olivia with a shrewd smile. "I would have done the same. You don't trust me."

"I don't make a living by taking people at their word," Olivia said, her voice slightly defensive. The blonde had a way of reading between the lines, and Olivia wasn't sure if she liked it yet.

Alex looked as if she would offer a retort, but instead she smiled. "No, I guess you don't," she said. "It's lonely, isn't it?" The words were quiet, floating under her breath, and Olivia had to strain to hear them. Alex didn't give her a chance to respond, and instead slipped on a pair of thick, black glasses and moved a painted nail down the page in front of her. "I used just a simple cash basis method, and only plan to log cash receipts and expenses, really. I started with this year, and with your help I can accrue the past months of the fiscal year." She looked up at Olivia, the blue eyes peering over the rim of her spectacles. "I assumed the fiscal year was based on July one through June thirty, yes?"

Olivia thought it best to nod, although she had lost all concentration as soon as Alex had slipped on the rimmed glasses. That, and she wasn't sure she had understood a word of the jargon her assistant had just spouted.

Alex smiled. "Don't worry, we're not that complicated of an office." She looked around. "Not that many expenses, I imagine, and I'll mostly log those, including my own wages." She glanced back up. "The rest is yours. Do with your profit what you will," she said breezily.

"Where did you learn all this bookkeeping?" Olivia asked. "You said you had experience clerking, but this is on whole other caliber." She gestured toward the graphed lines, and the neat figures penciled delicately within them.

Alex shrugged, but her eyes were immediately back on the page, as if the numbers themselves held some memory for her. "My father."

Olivia saw the hesitation, but probed further anyway. "He was a businessman, your father?"

"He was a number of things. But the law was his passion. He had his own practice for a number of years, and that's when I learned most of what went into it. Business and politics. They pretty much govern anything you do." The answer was terse, the tone indicative that the detective was not to ask any more questions. Instead, Alex changed the subject, reaching over to a stack of paper beside the phone. "I have a couple of messages for you," she said, flipping through them, her glasses still perched on the bridge of her nose. "A Mrs. Steele called, and said she had a problem involving a lax police squad and a stolen jewelry box. I penciled her in for Monday morning." She flipped through the rest of the them. "A couple of other potential clients, all really just petty theft. Two from the same neighborhood. After comparing the details of their preliminaries, I asked them to come in for a joint appointment on Tuesday." Her eyes drifted up from the stack of messages, and she caught Olivia's silence. "I didn't see anything on the calendar for next week." She looked up with a questioning glance. "Is that all right?"

The woman was on top of things. Olivia could merely nod.

"Lastly," Alex said, flipping to the last message. "Lieutenant Stabler called, from NYPD. Says he has some information for you." She raised her eyebrows and took a chance. "Would that be information regarding Johnny Mack and the Luckys?"

Olivia bristled, narrowing an eye but not giving a response.

Alex rolled her eyes. "You can keep your secrets, Detective, but I can make your job a lot easier if you share with me. Two minds are better than one."

"I hired an assistant, not another detective. I told you what I need: bookkeeping, administration." Olivia took a step forward and plucked the messages from Alex's nimble fingers. "Do me a favor. You concentrate on your end of the job, and I'll do my part of the job. Got it?" She walked towards her office, not bothering to look back at her assistant's wounded expression, but she felt the blue eyes burning into her back. She shut her door behind her, slicing her off from the curious woman. She gazed around her newly pristine surroundings. Getting used to an assistant would take some time, but it would clearly be worth it. Three new clients that she would have normally missed if not for someone around to answer the phone. She slumped into her chair and reached for the haphazard pile of notes she had been keeping on Nicky's whereabouts. She prided herself on her memory, but she had to record some things, otherwise she'd never keep her cases straight. The desk was clear, her organized chaos no longer apparent. She let out another exasperated sigh and walked over to the newly repaired filing cabinet. Nothing. Everything was alphabetized and organized, but no sign of her notes. "Jesus," she said, resisting the urge to slam the file cabinet door, all too aware that her own temper had been the reason the door was broken in the first place. Briefly resting her head on her hands, she called out a muffled, "Alex!"

The blonde appeared quickly, unmustered and helpful, a notepad in her hand and a question in her eyes.

"I had a pile of notes on my desk this morning - "

A nod from Alex cut her off. "Oh, yes. Your notes on Nicky Burns. I filed them right over here," she said, walking towards a small bookcase next to the desk. "In your 'In Progress' box." She handed the file over to Olivia, who gave her a surprised, but suspicious look.

"How'd you know these were on Nicky Burns? I use code names on all my notes."

Alex grinned. "And quite amusing ones at that." She gave a slight shrug, although clearly pleased with herself. "This morning you let the names Nicky and Johnny slip while you were on the phone." She nodded down at the notes. "Your John Doe there certainly doesn't have a nine to five, not based on your notes, and after you mentioned the harbor, I just put things together. I've lived in Manhattan all my life, Detective. I'd have to be deaf and blind not to know who Johnny Mack is. What I don't understand is why Johnny's putting you on one of his own men?"

Olivia dropped the file onto her desk and put her hand to the bridge of her nose. She had no idea what her assistant was trying to prove, but whatever it was, she was demonstrating a hell of a quick mind. It not only intrigued Olivia, it annoyed the hell out of her. "You want to tell me how you know so much about one of the biggest gangs in Manhattan? What kind of businessman was your father, exactly?"

Alex narrowed her eyes, her pride inching closer. "My father never had anything to do with scum like the Luckys, the Rabbits, or any other mob-cretins. He prosecuted criminals, he didn't play with them. He never forgot his job like some do." Her eyes flashed, and she caught herself.

Olivia caught the accusation in her assistant's tone, but shrugged it off. "Everybody plays with the mob, whether they want to or not, darlin'."

Her assistant's eyes flashed, and she saw the blonde swallow. "He didn't."

Olivia shrugged, letting it go. She had bigger things to worry about than her assistant's daddy issues. "Fine. Your father is a saint. Let's leave it at that." Alex looked as if she was about to speak again, but Olivia noticed something sitting on the low shelf next to her desk. "What's this?" she asked, picking it up. "A tape recorder? Where'd you find this?"

Alex couldn't help but slip a small, frustrated sigh. "It was in your closet, Detective. Among a number of other things that might be helpful in running your business." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I figured you could use it to help transcribe your notes. Your handwriting is atrocious."

Olivia thought for a second, then nodded her head in remembrance. "Ah, right. I found it a couple of years ago and couldn't get the blasted thing to work."

"It works fine."

The brunette cut her eyes upwards at the blonde. "I'm guessing you're also an electrician, then? You learn that from your father, too?" It was slightly cruel, but Olivia didn't like to be overstepped in her own office.

"I didn't realize you were so petty, Detective. I imagine you learned that from your mother?" The comment stung, but Olivia deserved it, and she knew it. She put a hand up, stopping Alex from walking out of the room. "Sorry. Just give me a day or two to adjust. You're doing a great job... I'm just not used to sharing this space."

Alex nodded. "Or your thoughts." She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You can share them with me or with your old tape recorder. You're the boss." She looked around, and took her glasses from her nose. "If you don't need anything else from me tonight, not that you would let me know if you did, I'll head out."

Olivia chuckled at the her assistant's earnest tone. Maybe this woman would learn to read her. "No, Ms. Cabot, I think I can handle it from here." The blonde nodded, and moved toward the door. As Olivia heard her rustle in the front room, jostling papers and closing drawers, she glanced out the window. The sky was darkening earlier and earlier, and already the it was black outside. She climbed out of her chair and poked her head into the front room, where Alex was pulling on her coat and pinning a small, delicate hat on her head. The woman was nothing if not classy. "It's already dark out," Olivia said. " Why don't I walk you down and get you a cab?"

Something shifted in Alex's eyes, and she seemed amused. "Quite a chivalrous offer, Detective, but I can handle myself." She grabbed her purse, a dainty number that she slipped over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow morning at 8:30." With a nod of her head, she was out the door, leaving Olivia alone in her newly cleaned, immensely organized office.

"We open at 9:00," the detective grumbled into the empty office. She shook her head, and wandered over toward the window behind Alex's desk, where Olivia had sat many a time to think through a case. The view was better from the front room. It looked right down onto the street, and gave Olivia plenty of opportunity to straighten her surroundings if she saw someone headed towards her private staircase. She saw Alex pop out of the doorway below and step gracefully onto the street. A cab pulled up to the curb, and a dapper gentleman stepped out., no doubt headed towards Cragen's. He held the door open for Alex, but she shook her head, declining the offer, and kept walking. Olivia raised an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side as she felt her detective's instinct kick in. The subway was in the opposite direction, and Alex was headed towards a neighborhood that seemed farthest from where a woman like her would choose to rest her hat at night. Olivia grabbed her coat quickly from the coat rack, and locked the office door behind her. Who was to say she couldn't follow her own hired help? The air cooled at the bottom of the stairwell, but the air that hit her when she opened the door was much colder. Quickly, she followed the route Alex had taken, only slightly concerned that she was spending her time following her new assistant rather than thinking through her own impending doom.

* * *

><p>Alex walked briskly, her long, lean legs moving her along at a rapid pace. Her heels pinched her toes, and she cursed herself for not remembering her more comfortable shoes. She had bought them several weeks ago when she'd first moved into her new apartment, and had been scouting the streets for jobs. She would have to remember them tomorrow. Her route snaked through the worst areas below 14th Street, through small alley ways cluttered with bedraggled, made-up women, who seemed to pay no attention to the beautiful woman that snuck through them, but Alex knew they were watching her closely, if only to make sure that they didn't have any new talent competing for their slice of a corner. Alex had scoured the city for something that fit her budget, realizing all too soon that her budget was pretty much nonexistent.<p>

She rounded a corner, passing a small, diminutive building that had caught her eye more than once with it's flashing sign: Birdie's. Often, she'd seen women slipping in and out of the club, some dolled up in their best dresses, others immaculately dappered in trousers and suit jackets. It was enough to make her curious, but so far she hadn't gone inside. Tonight would be no different. She rounded another corner and crossed the street, breathing her usual sigh of relief as her apartment came into view. In general, it was nothing to be excited about, it's stone walls slightly worse for wear, crumbling in some areas, the rooms small and drafty. Still, it was her own. She slid into the narrow doorway that led to her third-floor apartment, peeking inside first to make sure that her landlord, a small, round, oily man, wasn't lingering in the hallway. The apartment building was sometimes eerily quiet at night, as if the building itself was attempting to turn a blind eye toward the activities that went on inside of it. As she wound her way up the stairs, she was pushed aside by a rough-looking woman who seemed in a rush to get downstairs, her late arrival into the streets meaning less tricks to turn. Alex caught a glimpse of her own door, but her anxiety never sated until she was safely locked inside it. She didn't like to acknowledge the fear that she felt creeping along the darkened streets, but it was there nonetheless, a constant weight that she felt on her shoulders. She hadn't always been afraid.

A flash of white paper stuck between her door and the wall, and she sighed. Her landlord had never been the note-writing type, but she wouldn't put it past him. She plucked the paper from the door and pushed it open, not unfolding the crisp, white message until she had locked both locks behind her. She tossed her keys onto the small, bare table in the kitchen, and hung her purse from a small hook in the wall. As she unfolded the letter, she felt her breath leave her body. She recognized the handwriting, had grown up with the familiar scrawl. _How__the__mighty__have__fallen.__Your__new__palace__is__perfect__for__you.__I__do__hope__for__the__grand__tour__very__soon.__-R_

Alex let the letter fall from her hands, the breeze from the cracked open window that never seemed to close fluttering it around the room for a moment, as if mocking her. Alex pulled her coat tighter around her, a familiar feeling of fear clenching her throat. She shook her head, angry at herself, and picked up the letter, crumpling it fiercely in her hand before walking over to the window and creaking it open further. She tossed the crumpled ball of paper out into the city, letting it litter the cluttered alley below, another decoration on the neighborhood's dilapidated streets. She slammed the window shut, wishing she could lock it, but settled for yanking her shade down instead.

* * *

><p>Below, Olivia watched as Alex's silhouette disappeared behind a closed window shade. She watched as a harried woman pushed her way out of the apartment building, clearly on the prowl for a john. What the hell was a girl like Alex doing living in a dump like this? The mystery surrounding her new assistant had only grown deeper. She turned, walking back towards the direction she came, tipping her hat lower over her forehead. Time would tell.<p>

**Thank you all for taking the time to review - I greatly appreciate it. And I encourage you to keep it up :) And as usual, thanks Jbcjazz for the feedback :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Trouble with Dames  
>Chapter 4<strong>

Alex crept out of her apartment building, its hallways ghostly in the early quiet of the morning. She stepped over shards of broken glass bottles that littered the tiled foyer, discarded remnants of a night that someone probably no longer remembered. Outside, a slowly rising sun cast low shadows across the street, illuminating the few people that ventured out at such an early hour: shopkeepers, salvage men, paper boys. She had nowhere to be, but the tranquilness of the streets gave her some comfort, more than her dank, small flat. Alex had always preferred the quiet of the early morning. It had been the only time she had her father to herself. For years, ever since she was old enough to remember, she had wandered into her father's office in the early morning hours, dragging whichever tattered, dog-eared notebook contained her current lessons, and worked alongside him. She sometimes longed for those days.

Turning the corner, she saw a police car midway up the block, half pulled onto the curb and it's doors swung open. Two police officers stood leaning against the car, their starched uniforms crisp and clean, arms crossed over their chests. Another man, dressed in a long, crumpled gray coat that covered most of his uniform, walked out of an alley, his hat pulled low over his head, a cigarette perched in his mouth. Alex slowed her pace as she came closer, straining to hear their muffled voices. "Where the hell is the coroner?" the taller man said, his voice thick with smoke as he approached the two officers.

One of them shrugged. "O'Malley called him at home."

"What, he doesn't think people die before 7:00am? I've been waiting here for half an hour."

The other officer spoke up, attempting to assuage his boss' anger. "He's on his way, Lieutenant."

"He better be." The taller man shook his head, and threw his cigarette down on the ground, stubbing it with the toe of his shoe. "Chief is already on us about this district. They want it cleaned up. Dead girls ain't exactly helping matters."

"It's Bowery, boss. What else you expect. Nothing but whores and bums."

Alex cringed. She knew her neighborhood, and less than a year ago would have described it the same way, but still felt a well of indignance rise at the officer's severe description. A piece of glass crunched under her heel, and the Lieutenant glanced up at her, his two remarkably blue eyes mere slits squinting towards her in the sun. He nodded towards one of the officers, and the man quickly pushed himself off the cruiser. He took a few steps towards Alex, putting his hands up, clearly taking pleasure in his official role. "Ma'am, we ask that you utilize the other side of the street this morning."

Alex ignored him, her eyes on the alley behind the police car, seemingly the source of the commotion. "What's going on?"

"Nothing that we don't already have under control," he answered, transparency clearly not his priority.

His tone wasn't lost on Alex, but subtlety was something she was used to railroading. "Someone was killed." It wasn't a question, but a simple demand for confirmation, and the officer's smile disappeared into a grimace.

"Nothing to see, Miss. Just move it along." He let his eyes skim slowly over her. "What's a woman like you doing on the Bowery?" he asked.

"I'm on my way to work," she replied tersely, unconsciously pulling her coat tighter over her chest.

"On your way _to_ work, or on your way _from_work?" he asked with a glint in his eye. The corner of his mouth raised, and Alex felt a wave of repulsion wash over her. She wasn't sure, however, if the shame she felt moving through her was solely due to his comment or the idea that she had somehow given him reason to be so crude.

The Lieutenant's voice spoke up from behind them, beleaguered, as he took the few steps towards them. His eyes were focused solely on Alex, and he removed his cap graciously, revealing a short, buzzed cut that gave him an air of tough authority. He clenched a chiseled jaw as he put an arm on the officer's shoulder. "I'll take it from here," he said. The officer gave Alex another look before nodding and turning back to his partner, resuming his inclined position against the squad car.

The Lieutenant looked down at her with an attempt at comforting control. "Ma'am, there's no need for alarm. Just a crime gone wrong. We're taking care of it."

"You said it was a woman?" Alex asked, ignoring his soothing voice. "What happened to her?"

"We don't know that yet. But we'll find out." He looked back over his shoulder, impatient.

"Was it foul play?"

He turned back to her, surprised at her questioning. "A john gone wrong."

"Are you sure she was a prostitute?"

"More certain than not."

"How was she killed?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Look, lady, with all due respect, I got my own boss to breathe down my neck about this, all right?"

"I live in the neighborhood," she said, feeling her face redden at her honesty as he peered harshly down at her. "I just want to know what happened."

He studied her. "You one of Nan's girls?"

Alex cocked her head, confusion muddling her brow. The name wasn't familiar to her. "What? No, I - "

"Lieutenant Stabler, the coroner's here!"

The taller man looked behind him as a large vehicle moved towards them, pulling up on the curb behind the squad car. Alex, however, looked back at him, the name registering immediately in her mind. "Lieutenant Stabler?" she repeated, recognizing him as the same man who had called her new boss the week before. His voice had sounded thin and tired over the telephone, but it was the same tone.

He looked back at her, distracted. "That's me," he said. "If you'll excuse me, ma'am, I need to get to work here." He turned, but glanced back at her, his eyes squinting in concern. "Be safe around here." Alex moved to speak again, but he turned, walking back toward the officers and the coroner, whose white coat nearly eclipsed his stout figure as he moved into the alley.

Alex watched them for a moment, only moving reluctantly onward when the first officer looked as if he was about to come her way again. She put her head down, moving quickly past him, only slowing her pace again when she was well past the Bowery, where the storefronts became less bedraggled, and men in business suits and briefcases hustled past her. She let them sidle by, watching them, and envying them for their hurried gait, their necessity to be someplace important.

Her stomach grumbled at the sudden smell of fresh pecans that wafted from a nearby street cart, their sweetness tickling a hunger that she had forgotten. She felt around in her small purse, fumbling through the last of her coins with a worried frown. She forewent the pecans, and instead chose a couple of oranges and a banana. She'd worry about dinner later, but the fruit would at least get her through the day. A headline at a nearby newsstand caught her attention, and she let the fruit bag dangle absently beside her as she skimmed the words. _DISTRICT __ATTORNEY __VOWS __TO __FIGHT __CRIME._The young man behind the stand gawked at her, his eyes traveling the length of her. He stuttered a greeting, staring at her as she gave him a polite smile before leaning over, her eyes still on the paper.

A gentleman stepped up next to her. "Hey, son, you got anymore of the Daily Post back there? You're out here." The boy reluctantly tore his eyes away from Alex and grumpily turned, crouching down and sifting through his stacks of paper. The gentleman smiled briefly at Alex before turning and lighting himself a cigarette. Alex used the moment to her advantage, and snatched a copy of the paper, dropping it quickly into her bag, attempting to convince herself that the boy would never miss it. As she walked, she also tried to convince herself that she would eventually be able to afford a simple tabloid newspaper. She felt her face flush at her own private shame, and kept her head low, scurrying through the crowd. What had she become?

* * *

><p>Monday had come entirely too fast for Olivia. For the majority of the weekend, she had put off any strenuous thinking about Johnny Mack's proposition, preferring instead to nurse her uncertainty with a bottle of scotch rather than serious thought. She had canceled on Elliott and the girls, even the thought of seeing them bringing a fresh wave of guilt over her. It was days like this that she wished Cragen's opened earlier. Some mornings, coffee just didn't do it. She glanced down at her watch as she pulled open the door to her office, hardly surprised to see her new assistant already seated behind the desk, her wavy blonde head bent diligently over a thick book. "You certainly are a morning person, I'll give you that," Olivia sighed as she slipped her coat off her shoulders.<p>

"A girl was murdered last night."

Olivia raised her eyebrows, pausing, her coat dangling from her hand. "And a fine morning to you too, Ms. Cabot." She hung the garment and plucked her hat from her head, running a casual hand through her short dark hair, mussing it away from her forehead. She hitched her tailor-made slacks higher onto her waist and began to roll one shirt sleeve, then the other up her arm, all the while directing her gaze at Alex, who peered inquisitively up at her with that same pair of glasses perched studiously on her nose.

"Last night on Bowery and 2nd. I saw the crime scene this morning."

Olivia recognized the corner, as she'd passed by it many a night on her way to Birdie's. When she'd been with Nan, she'd been at the club almost more than her own office. "It's Skid Row, what do you expect?" she asked casually, reaching a hand up to loosen her tie, as well as the first couple of buttons of her shirt. Why she ever bothered getting fully dappered in the morning, she didn't know. By the time she hit her first cup of coffee, she usually looked as if she'd been working for hours. She walked closer to the desk, raising her eyebrows at her assistant. "And do you always walk through Prostitution Row on your way into work?" The question was meant to rattle, and the detective saw something flash through her Alex's eyes before she turned her head back down to her book. Good. The woman wasn't completely unflappable, no matter how cool those blue eyes seemed.

"Lieutenant Stabler was there."

The information gave Olivia pause. Rarely did a stray body along Skid Row attract Elliott's attention unless it was part of something bigger. Still, she kept her tone casual. "And?"

Alex flipped through the stack of old messages she had lying on her desk. "_And,_ I know that name. He called here last week. He said he had some information for you. Remember?" She held up the dogeared message, her neat scrawl etched across it. Olivia flapped Alex's hand lightly back down to the desk, ignoring the printed reminder, but fully cognizant of her assistant's soft, warm skin. "You know him," the younger woman said, almost accusingly. "Can't you find out what happened?"

Olivia's lips parted in genuine intrigue. "Why do you care so much?"

The question seemed to stump Alex, and her thin shoulders slumped underneath the emerald blouse she wore. "I don't know," she said finally, her blue eyes sincere as she met Olivia's gaze. "I guess because no one else seems to."

Her words hung over the office, penetrated only by the sound of a car horn blaring angrily from outside. Olivia shifted, stuffing her hands in her pockets as her eyes moved quickly down to the book in front of Alex, one that she recognized as her own: _First __Steps __in __Private __Investigation_. "Some heavy reading," she said, nodding down at the text. "You studying to become a private detective?" The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, pleased with her own wit.

Alex looked up at her over the rim of her glasses, unamused, and pushed a hand against her perfectly coifed hair. "I figured I should know a thing or two, seeing as how you're a closed book."

"I'm not a closed book. I'm a detective, and you're an assistant. Simple as that."

Olivia thought she detected an eye roll as Alex turned and handed over a sheet of typed paper. "As your _assistant_, I reworked an old contract you had laying around, which I'm sure you never used, but it would be nice to require your clients to sign a memorandum of agreement before you waste any of your precious detective time."

Olivia let her eyes roam over the page, having never seen so much legal jargon crammed between two margins. "Normally my precious time isn't spent in the office this early. I told you we open at 9:30," she said.

"I thought a private investigator was always on the job?" Alex peered down at her text. "That's what it says here, on page 38." A soft smile curled her lips, and Olivia got the distinct feeling that the woman was having a little fun with her. The blue eyes trailed slyly down Olivia's torso before turning back to the page in front of her, and the detective instinctively straightened her posture, wishing she would have kept her shirt and tie in tact. The moment passed quickly, though, and the blonde was once again immersed in her book.

"Life isn't a textbook," Olivia cut in. "You think the answer to that dead body you passed this morning is in that book? You're dreaming, sweetheart. This job requires a hell of a lot more than a book smarts."

Alex took her words as a challenge. "That girl was murdered, Olivia. And another girl was found murdered in the same neighborhood last month. What if it was the same killer? What if these poor women are just victims of the Rabbits prostitution ring? After all, the gang's got the whole neighborhood under their control." She narrowed her gaze, and flipped through several newspaper articles that she had on her desk, clippings that Olivia recognized from her own files. "Or, what if this is Johnny Mack's doing? A slew of murders will definitely attract attention, which is not something the Rabbits would want to do on their own turf. Or maybe it's a serial killer. The police aren't going to waste their time investigating it, so why don't we?"

Olivia put a hand up, silencing her. "Listen, Nancy Drew." Alex's blue eyes blazed at the comment, but Olivia continued. "Do me a favor, and just do the job that I hired you to do_._" She turned towards her office, her brow furrowed. The blonde may be too smart for her own good, but her words had still struck a nerve in the detective. The timing of the murders, Johnny Mack's sudden attention to the Rabbits and their black market activities didn't quite add up. Or, maybe it added up all too well, and Olivia was the one in the middle.

Alex's voice trailed after her, relentless. "Detective, will you at least follow up with Lieutenant Stabler? If he's a friend of yours, he could help."

Olivia rolled her eyes, and took a deep breath, looking back over her shoulder. "We don't talk that often, Ms. Cabot." She entered her own office, taking a seat behind her desk, which was still too clean for the detective's taste. She leaned back, tossing Alex's memorandum of agreement on the desk, enjoying the way the pages cluttered its clean surface. Cragen was always complaining about his hired help because they didn't seem to take the job seriously. And here, she'd hired a woman that seemed drawn to the danger in a way that Olivia hadn't expected. The phone rang, and Olivia reached over, but heard Alex pick it up first, her professional greeting floating through the open door. A few seconds later she appeared in the threshold, glancing at Olivia with a smile on her face as she crossed clasped her hands innocently in front of her gray skirt.

"Lieutenant Stabler is on the line for you." She seemed more than pleased with herself, as if she'd proven some sort of point.

Olivia rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily, reaching for her phone. Alex turned, walking back to the front office. Olivia half expected to see her give herself a pat on the back. "Benson," she said into the phone.

"Liv, meet me at Lou's Coffee."

"You have the worst timing known to man, Elliott," she said.

"Doesn't matter. Just get here. I got some questions for you. And some information about your new gal friday."

Olivia hung up, pushing herself away from her desk. The distraction was welcome, if only to get her out of the office. As cloying as she thought her new assistant, she still couldn't get the woman out of her head. Maybe the whole out of sight, out of mind adage would work in her favor today. Alex looked up at her as she walked out of her office.

"That was a quick call. I figured the two of you would catch up a little longer, seeing as how you don't get a chance to_talk__that__often._"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're impertinent?" Olivia asked, stopping in front of the desk and looking down at Alex, fully aware that her own brown eyes were dark, but not wholly with irritation.

The blue eyes challenged her over her glasses. "Only those that can't handle it."

Olivia shook her head, and headed toward the coat rack. "Let me remind you, Ms. Cabot, that you're on a trial period here." Whenever in doubt, exert authority.

A nervous, but fleeting look passed through the blonde's eyes, and for a moment Olivia thought her words had worked too well. "I need this job," her assistant said, her voice a pitch lower.

Something shifted in Alex's eyes, and for a moment Olivia caught something like vulnerability inside them. She threw her coat over a nearby chair and leaned over Alex's desk, peering intently down at her. "What I want to know," she said, "is why you seem to _want_ this job so badly. Why does danger intrigue you so much?"

Alex shook her head, almost sadly. "It doesn't," she said simply. "You just seem to be the only person in this city who cares about finding the truth."

Olivia felt something wash over her, the same feeling that she'd had upon first meeting the woman. There was some insatiable hunger driving her, and Olivia wasn't sure what it was, but she was certain that it was towards some form of justice. For what, she didn't know, but she was determined to find out exactly what wound her new assistant so tightly. She stood, threading her arms through her coat. "Truth is hard to come by," she said softly, her words resounding within her. "You'd be surprised how malleable it can become over the years." She moved quickly back towards the door. "I'm heading out for quick meeting, and from there tracking a client's husband, a Mr. Norquist. Apparently he's known to take the occasional extended lunch, and it's my job to figure out exactly what kind of aperitif he's taking in."

Alex shook her head, her gaze returning to its businesslike studiousness. "No. You have a client meeting at 10:45. Then you're meeting Mr. Sherman at the bodega on 12th and 2nd regarding his stolen shipments. That's at 12:00." She met Olivia's blank stare with a heavy sigh. "I can't keep your schedule if you don't share it with me, Detective. I can't read your mind."

"You certainly act like you can."

Alex's eyes lit up, their blue startlingly bright as she reeled from some internal epiphany, ignoring the detective's verbal jab. "Let me help. I can follow Mr. Norquist."

Olivia shook her head immediately, putting up a silencing palm. "I can handle it."

"Is that right? You can be in two places at once, then?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, a quip on the tip of her tongue, but her assistant railed over her, eagerly.

"I can do a simple tail, Detective. It's all Chapter One material," she said, pointing to the book that still sat open on her desk. "I can be quite inconspicuous."

Olivia laughed. "Trust me, darling, a girl like you can never go unnoticed." She felt a flush creep into her cheeks and she turned toward the coat rack, hoping the blonde hadn't noticed. Apparently she hadn't. By the time Olivia had turned back around, she was fuming. "One day you're going to need my help."

"And when that day comes, Ms. Cabot, I'll certainly ask for it." Olivia tipped her hat, smiling, and let the door close behind her.

* * *

><p>The smell of coffee had nearly bowled Olivia over when she walked in the door, which was one of the reasons she had frequented Lou's Coffee for years. Never mind the fact that it was more than twelve blocks from her office, and she had to pass three other cafes to get there. She had patroned the shop every day for the last five years, just after she'd discovered it after following a perp inside one morning. The clerk behind the counter slid two piping cups of coffee towards her, and Olivia fished a wad of bills out of her pocket.<p>

"Well, well, glad you could give your ol' pal the time of day," Elliott said, walking up behind her. He tipped his hat toward the clerk with a polite smile. The clerk shook his head at the dollar bill that Olivia peeled off, putting up his hand. "Oh, no need," he said, acknowledging Elliott. "It's on the house for you and the Lieutenant." Olivia peered up at him questionably, but he just nodded his assent, pushing the mugs closer towards her. Elliot reached over and quickly grabbed his own, heading for a table.

"I've been coming here for five years," Olivia said, disbelievingly, following him, "and never once have I gotten anything on the house."

Elliott shrugged as he sat down, his broad chest towering over the small table. "It's one of the very few perks of the jobs, Liv. Let me enjoy it." Olivia followed, taking a seat, and their cups steamed in front of them. "What the hell happened to you this weekend?" he asked. "You bailed."

Olivia nodded apologetically. "Work had me a little preoccupied." It was mostly true. She had been preoccupied trying not to think about it.

Elliott let the subject rest, not bothering to question her further. Again, she appreciated that he could read her so well. "I caught a murder this morning," he said, changing the subject.

"I know."

He looked at her surprised.

"My new assistant saw the crime scene this morning."

Confusion wrinkled Elliott's forehead for a moment, then a look of realization straightened his features as he recalled the woman he had encountered. "_That's_ your girl friday?" he asked disbelievingly. He looked impressed, and even somewhat jealous for a moment, but suspicion soon muddled his brow. "What the hell is she doing walking Skid Row before the crack of dawn?"

Olivia shrugged. She'd spent the majority of the weekend asking herself the same question. "She lives in the old Stanworth building. I followed her home the other night."

Elliott raised his eyebrows, but chuckled. "Of course you did. Always the detective." He thought for a moment, and glanced at Olivia behind his coffee mug. "Look, Liv, I got some information on your new gal that I'm willing to share, but you're gonna have to give me something here. I got two murders on my hands in less than a month, with all indications that they've been committed by the same perp."

Olivia set her mug down, her eyes serious. "You've got a serial?"

Elliott shook his head. "I'm not jumping to conclusions. But both girls were strangled, both found with jewelry stuffed down their throats." Olivia shuddered. It was times like this she was glad she wasn't on the force. Elliott leaned into her. "What have you heard? I know you've heard something, you've been way too quiet lately."

Olivia took a deep breath, her hesitation fully visible, which she knew hurt her oldest friend somewhat. But she couldn't help it. Their jobs put them both in danger, but never necessarily at the same time, and her years in the job had trained her to careful around even those she trusted the most. "What do you know about Jack Spade?"

Elliott raised his eyebrows, his cup halting midway to his mouth. "Jack Spade, head of the Rabbits? He's the most powerful man in the mob these days."

"I've heard he's got his hands in some weapons trading."

Elliott sighed. "Doesn't surprise me, although it doesn't make me feel all light and fluffy, either. But what's this got to do with the dead girls?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. But he's upping the prostitution market. Selling girls for weapons to those willing to do business with him."

"Who's trading the weapons? What, the Russians?"

Olivia shrugged, feeling unhelpful. "I don't know." She took a sip of her coffee. "But it may be my job to find out."

"What are you talking about?"

"Johnny Mack wants me to look into it. Apparently he feels like the Luckys are losing a bit of market share."

Elliott shook his head, his brow now completely furrowed. "Stay out of it, Liv."

"You can't tell me to stay out of it, Elliott, and then come to me asking for underground information. It doesn't work like that." Her comment stung, and she knew it. "Look, maybe NYPD can push back against some of the prostitution. It's all Rabbits behind it. Get serious about it, and you lessen the chances that you'll find another dead body."

Elliott shook his head. "NYPD's already pushing cases, but the District Attorney's not gonna go for anything involving the Rabbits, I can tell you that. The guy's been fattening his pockets with mob money for years. Rabbit money, specifically." He cocked his head. "When exactly did your new girl friday come along?"

"Last week. Never seen her before then. Why? What'd you get on her?"

Elliott peered closely at her. "Not much, but I talked to Old Lou down in evidence. Guy's a dinosaur, but he's a walking history book of the city. About fifteen years ago, before you and I were even thinking about police work, Manhattan had a firecracker of a DA. The guy was a hardass on gang activity, bootlegging, the black market, you name it. Anything that started becoming too lucrative for the wrong reasons, he'd prosecute it. Didn't earn him a great relationship with the mob, though. Or NYPD."

"What's this have to do with Alex?"

"The DA's name was Charles Cabot. He died in a car accident in '28. Cops chalked it up to faulty brakes, but a lot of people think it was foul play. Guy had a wife and a daughter, one Alexandra Grace Cabot." He paused, giving Olivia a pointed look, almost appreciating the surprise flickering through her widened eyes.

"Was it foul play or was it an accident?"

Elliott shrugged, turning his head to look out the window. "Fifteen years ago I would've said accidents happen. Knowing what I know now... I wouldn't be surprised if he was a target. After his death, DA Connors came on the job, and that's when the Rabbits suddenly became untouchable."

Olivia nodded slowly, realization dawning on her. "And the NYPD never investigated his death?"

"No more than they had to. Who knows what ties they had to the mobs. I'm sure they chalked it up as an accident to save their own hides. Plus, nobody pressed it. Not the Mayor, not the DA, nobody."

"What about the wife?"

"I didn't get that far. You're the detective, you go scour the paper records."

Olivia nodded, but her attention was clearly still processing the information she'd been dealt. Alex had been a closed book so far, but the detective was intent on peeling back the pages, however long it took. She just hoped she wouldn't be caught up in any decades old drama along the way. She took another sip of her coffee, the liquid warming her from the inside out. She focused back on Elliott. "So, you got the boys pounding the pavement or are you gonna chalk it up to Skid Row happenstance?"

Elliott sighed. "I told you, Chief is coming down on that district, I gotta devote some resources to it." He shook his head. "But, considering it happened across the street from Birdie's, I got an idea of the first place I want to start."

Olivia knew where he was going. She could read his mind just as well as she could read the irritation in his tone. "I'll talk to Nan," she offered.

He shook his head. "No. This is my investigation, I'll talk to Nan." A look of discomfort crossed his features, and Olivia looked at him knowingly.

"I'll talk to her tonight," Olivia offered. "Heaven forbid a man such as yourself have to step foot in a place like Birdie's. The women frighten you, Elliott?" She chuckled, and he shook his head gratingly.

"Liv," he said, his tone serious.

Her smile faded, and she leaned back in her chair. "The place is perfectly safe, Elliott."

"Some people don't like... what goes on there," he said.

She leaned forward, her dark eyes flashing. "And what exactly goes on there?" she asked, challenging him. "It's merely a place for women like me – perfectly normal women – to be around friends. It's the safest place for us." She crossed her arms over her chest, and glanced down at her watch. "Listen, let's catch up later this week, and I'll give you an update." She stood. "I gotta make a stop before heading back to the office."

"Oh yeah? Where to?"

"Gonna put my skills to use. Dig around some old records." She took last, lingering sip of her coffee, and set her mug back down. "And see what you can do about getting me a coffee discount. After all, I'm a detective, too." She smiled, patting him on his uniformed shoulder before walking hurriedly out the door.

* * *

><p>The office was quiet, and Alex heard her stomach grumble. She ignored it, having already scarfed down an orange on her way into the office. The trouble with sleeping so little was that she had to eat so much. She heard the downstairs door open, followed by the sound of Olivia's light footsteps on the stairs. She glanced up as the detective walked in, her eyes hidden by the dip of her hat. Why anyone would want to hide such honest eyes, clear she didn't know. "Good," she said, adopting her business tone. "Your 10:45 will be here soon."<p>

Olivia didn't respond, and didn't bother to shrug off her coat, either. Instead, she walked briskly around the desk, and tossed several copies of old newspaper clippings on to it. They littered Alex's clean workspace, and her eyes peered down at the top article, widening as she caught the headline. It was one she hadn't seen in years, but she had memorized the entire article completely, having read it over and over the days after her father's death. She sat rigidly, unmoving, as if her past had completely immobilized her.

Olivia saw the sadness behind the blonde's glasses, but had little patience for it. "Now do you want to tell me why you wanted this job so badly?" she asked, taking a seat on the edge of the desk and crossing her arms over her coat.

Alex didn't speak for a moment, but rather removed her glasses slowly, letting them drop onto the desk. She looked up at the detective, who blurred in front of her for a moment, but she willed away the tears that threatened to pool in her eyes. She wanted to avert her gaze, sure that her boss could see everything that she had tried for so long to hide, but the dark eyes simply stared, inquisitively, but without judgment. Olivia spoke for her. "Is that your father?"

Alex nodded, her voice still failing her.

"It's not my business to open old cases, Ms. Cabot. If that's the reason you took this job, then I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

Alex shook her head quickly, finally finding her voice, but annoyed by its thinness. "No," she said softly. "No, this isn't why I wanted this job."

Olivia uncrossed her arms, resting her hands beside her on the edge of the desk. The blonde looked suddenly small, defeated, a posture that seemed both foreign and utterly wrong on her regal frame. "Look, I'm sorry about your father, Ms. Cabot. But is this really the best fit for you?" She tried to keep her voice even, but Alex looked quickly up at her.

"I know how it looks, but this isn't about my father." She stumbled over her words. "Not - not about – it's not about his death." She glanced back down at the articles. "I'm not here because of some notion of vengeance, or even justice for that matter. I quit searching for the truth about my father's accident a long time ago." The words were quiet, as if she were unveiling a truth that was new, even to her.

"Then why are you here?"

Alex turned towards her quickly, and placed a hand on Olivia's knee, sending a shot of something pleasurable up the detective's spine. "I'm not here because of my father," she repeated, almost desperately. "But he spent most of his life making sure that his city wasn't run by crooks, and that the justice that was doled out was fair and equitable. And I know my city, Detective, and it doesn't run that way anymore. I can't make a difference within the system, but I can here." She seemed to notice her fingers gripping the detective's leg, and she moved them away abruptly, her face reddening, as if she'd said too much. She turned back to her desk silently.

Olivia started to say something, but her own voice seemed to fail her, and she stared down at the news clippings, the face that stared up from the printed pages so eerily reminiscent of the young woman in front of her. She tried her voice again, but a knock at the door startled both of them. An older woman walked in, her gray hair molded high on her head, a string of pearls wrapped high around her neck. Alex recovered first, her voice strong and clear. She placed her notebook over the news articles, effectively covering them. "Good morning. Mrs. Steele, I presume?"

The woman nodded, and Olivia rose to her feet, extending a hand, the intensity that had existed a moment earlier beginning to dissolve around them. "Mrs. Steele, I'm Detective Benson," she said. The woman nodded, her gloved hand clutching a small purse that she held to her chest.

"Yes, I spoke with Ms. Cabot last week. She said you were the best around." She looked from Alex back to Olivia. "Of course, I imagine you're paying her to say that."

Olivia let out a modest wave of her hand. "Well, you'll just have to be the judge of that, Mrs. Steele." She motioned the woman forward to the seat in front of Alex's desk. "My Associate, Ms. Alex Cabot, will handle the preliminaries and take your statement," she said. Alex looked up at her, clearly shocked by both the term used to describe her and the detective's sudden change of heart, but she recovered quickly, nodding her head and fishing for her notepad and pencil.

"Let me hang your coat for you, Mrs. Steele," Olivia said, glancing over at Alex as she attempted to prepare herself, quickly closing the textbook she had been reading, and hiding it under a stack of manila folders. The older woman sat, keeping her purse held intently in her lap. Alex flashed her a warm smile. Olivia caught her assistant's eye and gave a small, but encouraging nod before turning into her office, shutting the door gently behind her. She put a hand against her temple, which was still reeling from the amount of new information she was attempting to process.

Alex seemed intent on leaving the mystery surrounding her father's death behind, but Olivia saw the doubt in her eyes, an old doubt that would never disappear. It was a feeling she knew all too well, and was all too ready to forget, if only her own past would let her. Still, the Rabbits had been on the rise for years, and Jack Spade had definitely been well on his way to the top back when Cabot was DA. And he certainly hadn't made it to the top without leaving a few bodies behind. But, why the Luckys sudden interest in the Rabbits? Was the gang really trading weaponry with the Germans? And were the recent Skid Row murders connected, or was it simply the Luckys way of calling attention to a rival gang's activities? There was only one way to find out. Olivia would have to play each off of each other, and somehow hope to get to the bottom of it. And she wouldn't be able to do it without some help. She glanced back towards her closed door, and heard the low, murmured voices outside. Maybe her help had come along at the right time.

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know if you like... I'm having a bit of fun with this, and hope you all are enjoying it. Jazz and Rae, thanks for beta-ing :)<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Trouble with Dames  
>Chapter 5<strong>

Olivia leaned over the recording device that sat on the edge of her desk, its motor and wire nestled into its portable, if extremely heavy case. It wasn't the most familiar mechanism to her, and she'd bought it only that year after she'd heard Elliot brag about the one down at his precinct. Sometimes, the grudge she still carried against the NYPD and its boys club ended up damaging her wallet more than anything else. The recorder had cost her over two months worth of case work, and she'd used it once, although quite successfully, by taping a highly prized conversation with a business man she was tailing. Its bulk, however, didn't make it necessarily easy to lug with her everywhere she went, and lived out its legend inside her dank storage closet. At least, up until her new assistant arrived. The detective leaned over and flipped the record knob, leaning back in her chair as the tape whirred, waiting for its click before she spoke.

"Monday, January 26, 1943. Today I sign my life over to the mob."

She sighed and flicked the knob back, halting the tape, and leaned back in her chair. She would have to pay a visit to Johnny Mack by the end of the day, or have him risk coming to her. Or worse, assuming her silence meant she was declining his offer, and have him come after her angry. Maybe she ought to record a message, justifying her visit, just in case she never made it back. She chuckled. Since when was she so over dramatic? Voices from the outer office fluttered into her consciousness, and she cocked her head, listening to her new assistant coach Mrs. Steele through the private investigative process.

__"Mrs. Steele, if we find anything that helps you with your divorce settlement, we'll talk additional fees then. Until that happens, we're happy to help in any way we can. Just remember, you are doing what any educated, liberated woman of the 40s would do. You owe it to yourself. And quite frankly, he owes you as well. Greatly, judging by his bank accounts."__

_"I just don't know what I'll do on my own without him."_

_"Oh, Mrs. Steele, men are highly overrated."_

Olivia smirked. She couldn't help but agree with her assistant on that particular nugget of wisdom, although she was more than sure it was for very different reasons. She pictured the way the blonde's gray pencil skirt hugged her hips, stopping below her knees, but not hiding the a pair of smooth, thin calves. Olivia had to harbor a grudge against any male specimen who would ever be worthy of the woman's attention. Men were such lucky bastards. She closed the recorder, snapping its brown leather case shut with two clicks, and waited until Mrs. Steele's gravelly voice had drifted out the door, only poking her head out of her office once she heard the front door close. "Sounds like that went well," she said, watching as Alex reclaimed her seat behind her desk.

The assistant smiled, but her eyes were all business. "I tweaked her contract a little. If we find anything on her husband that increases her divorce settlement, we get six percent of the incremental reward."

"Then I guess we should dig up some dirt on her husband."

Alex rolled her eyes as she stared down at her neatly composed notes. "Well, it sounds like there's plenty to find. From what she told me, he's a creep, in all facets of life, so we should have no problem with that."

"So, she's getting a divorce? Quite a decision for an older woman. It won't be easy."

Alex's eyes flashed up from her desk, but she didn't seem all that surprised by the detective's line of thought. "You suggest she stay with a cheating, lying husband then?"

"No, of course not. It's just, some broads are accustomed to the swanky lifestyle. I see it all the time. They care only about the money, and they'll marry and stay married to whoever it takes to make sure that they keep the money."

"Spoken like a true _broad_ of the movement," Alex said derisively. "You must really admire your fellow women. I see you hold them in very high esteem."

Olivia's eyes flashed, and she smiled inwardly, amused by the blonde's innocent sarcasm. "You have no idea, Ms. Cabot." She rapped her knuckles on the case file on Alex's desk. "I'll read over this later today." She checked her watch. "Right now, I think it's about time we take a lunch. What do you say?"

Alex's stomach grumbled at the thought, but she quickly shook her head. She would barely make it to her first payday, and didn't have any business burning the last of her change on a fancy lunch. "I'm fine, thank you," she said quietly, turning her head distractedly back down to her desk.

Olivia didn't notice the flush that crept into her assistant's cheeks, and railroaded over her protestation. "If I'm following this Mr. Norquist fellow over his lunch break, I might as well look as if I'm having lunch with someone. " She caught the blonde's hesitation. "Mark it off in your account book as a business expense. We've both got to eat, right?"

Alex gave a small shrug of her shoulders, still not quite comfortable with the new attention her boss was bestowing on her. She'd learned long ago not to take things at face value, and she wondered what was behind the detective's sudden wish to include her in investigative activities. She guessed it was so the brunette could keep an eye on her, but she intended to use the new attention to her advantage, too. The woman in front of her, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt like the average bloke on the street, aroused some curiosity in her, and she was determined to milk some personal information from her. She nodded, somewhat reluctantly, her eyes trying to capture whatever was behind the detective's invitation, but she was a closed book, her expression blank. Alex moved around the side of her desk, and noticed Olivia give her an appraising look, her eyes not bothering to disguise their trail down her body. "What?" she asked defensively, grabbing her coat and slipping it over her shoulders.

"I'm guessing they didn't cover the concept of comfortable shoes in the textbook, did they?" She focused her attention on the nude heels that the blonde wore.

Alex pursed her lips and placed a her hands on her hips. "My shoes are perfectly comfortable." It was a lie, but it was a price she was more than willing to pay. Shoes and books were her only vice in life, and although she could afford neither anymore, she took great pride in flaunting those that she already possessed.

Olivia flashed a key that she twirled in her fingers. "Lucky for you, we're driving."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I hope you're less reckless with your driving than you are with your expenses." With that, she was out the door, leaving it open behind her, her heels echoing off the tiled staircase. Olivia chuckled, tossing the keys in the air and catching them before locking the door behind her. Lunch would certainly be amusing.

* * *

><p>Olivia's car sat parked along 58th, just across the street from a towering gray building that unfortunately no longer held the title of the tallest building in Manhattan, but was still pretty close. She and her assistant waited in silence for Mr. Norquist to leave on his lunch expedition, neither taking their eyes off the front entrance for more than a few seconds at a time.<p>

"So, this Mrs. Norquist is pretty certain that Mr. Norquist is having an affair?"

Olivia shrugged. "Doesn't know. According to her, there are no telltale signs: no lipstick stains, no perfume, no earrings, nothing. But he's up to something. Each day, according to his secretary, he leaves the building at exactly 11:30 on the dot, says he's headed to lunch. He walks back into the office every day at 2:00. It's like clockwork, but only during the last week of each month. The rest of the time, he barely even leaves his office for lunch."

Alex nodded, committing the information to memory, and glanced at her watch. Mr. Norquist would be vacating his building in approximately five minutes. "So, Detective, where did you grow up?"

Olivia didn't bother looking at her, and instead kept her gaze pointed toward the building. "New York."

"Which neighborhood?"

"Probably not one that you frequented very much."

Alex bit back her urge to comment, and instead pressed further. "Why don't you try me?"

The detective's eyes flitted towards her for just a moment before returning to their diligent position across the street. "Queens."

"When did you move to the city?"

"'28."

"And that's when you became a cop?"

Now the brown eyes turned towards her, narrowing. "Is that what Cragen told you?"

Alex met the dark gaze, happy to have at least hit on some emotional point. "He said you wanted to become a cop. That you would have made a good one, if we were twenty years in the future."

Olivia shrugged, but her shoulders were heavy. "It was different then. Now, with the war, women are working more, but back then, all I could get was a phone and a secretary's pad. They didn't need women doing investigative work."

Alex fiddled with a button on her coat. "When did you quit?"

"When I got tired of pushing paper." She had returned her gaze back to the window, the small slice of openness closing back up. She squinted, focusing on the figure of a thin, short man coming out of the building. "Norquist," she said, placing her hand on the door. "For now, we're on foot. Think you can keep up?"

In response, Alex climbed out of the car, closing the door behind her and immediately crossed the street, hanging back just a little from the hurried man they were set to follow. Olivia followed, quickly catching up to her. "Okay, clearly you don't have any trouble keeping up."

"Like I told you, my shoes are actually quite comfortable." Again, it was a lie, but she was determined to prove herself now that she'd been given half a chance.

"I think it has more to do with those long legs of yours," Olivia slipped, wincing internally at the comment, but keeping her expression confident. After all, it was a true observation. "Now, would you slow down? We can give him a few yards without losing him."

They slowed their pace as the man halted outside of the flashy sign of Hotel Madison, a gigantic, behemoth of a hotel that didn't discriminate amongst businessmen, gangsters, or anyone of equally ambiguous morality. As long as the money rolled in, everyone was welcome. Mr. Norquist, although young, handsome, and impeccably dressed, was merely a mid-level position at a mediocre advertising firm. He didn't seem the type to engage in business lunches at the Madison. Nevertheless, he walked inside.

"All roads lead to the mob," Olivia mumbled with a shake of her head.

"What?" Alex asked.

"This is Jack Spade's hotel. He owns it."

Alex's lips parted in quick surprise, although it was well known that the mob probably owned more things than she would like to think about. Clearly, the Rabbits' ownership didn't just reach to her debilitated apartment building and its surrounding streets. She had only ever seen him once, and that was in a photo in the New York Times shortly after her father's death. But she'd heard enough to know that he was a ticking time bomb, and one that didn't take kindly to anyone slowing down the roll of money that came tumbling toward him.

"Jack Spade is - "

"I'm familiar with the name," Alex said quickly, cutting her off.

"As you should be. He owns half of New York."

Alex grimaced. "I know he does. He's owned it for the last fourteen years." Olivia let the comment cut, her own face flushing at her misstep. It had been the death of Alex's father, DA Cabot, that had truly ignited Spade's rise to prominence, both in the legitimate and illegitimate worlds. Alex motioned towards the door, brushing off any sign of old grief. "Well, clearly his fling is coming in from out of town. Shall we?"

Olivia pursed her lips as they entered the bustling lobby. She guessed Alex was more than familiar with the finer areas of the city, despite her current lodgings. However, as the daughter of a poor immigrant mother, the detective always took a moment to marvel at the marble floors, the ornate vases filled with flowers imported from places she would never be able to pronounce, much less visit. The bellhops and porters scurried around them, heeding the silent calls of patrons: a raised eyebrow from a suited gentleman, the beckoning of a feminine gloved hand. Olivia allowed herself to breathe in the excess for a moment before she felt Alex's hand tug her arm.

"He's at the bar."

They discreetly walked towards the hotel's restaurant, which stood out of the way on one side of the lobby, exclusive in its very bid not to be noticed. The host glanced up briefly at them. "Two?" he asked, clearly unimpressed by the detective, who paid him little attention, and instead scoured the room behind him.

"Yes," Alex responded, quickly taking the lead. "And do you mind if we take that table away from the window? I'm incredibly sensitive to the sunlight." The table she had selected, of course, put them only a few feet away from Mr. Norquist, who sat by himself at the bar, his head already angled towards a drink. The host nodded, motioning for the two of them to follow him. He graciously pulled out Alex's chair, and she sat with ease, smiling her gratitude up at him. His eyes shot towards Olivia, and she put a hand up, halting him. "I got it." He gave her an uncomfortable nod, and left them with two menus. Olivia started to compliment Alex on her seating arrangement, but a waiter was immediately upon them, a smug smile on his face.

"How are you ladies today? May I share with you the specials?"

Alex glanced up at him, smiling, but her tone held a fine facade of chastisement. "I'll have a glass of white, and she'll have a scotch. If you'll kindly give us a few moments, thank you."

The waiter nodded and ducked away, leaving them alone again. Olivia glanced at her assistant over her menu. "You certainly know how to handle the hired help." She glanced back over at Norquist, who had already drained half of his drink. The man seemed to be in a hurry, for someone who, according to his wife's intelligence, took hours-long lunch breaks.

"It's a good skill to have. You could stand learning it." The blonde smirked, dipping her head toward her own menu. "So," she said. "Isn't Jack Spade the very man that Johnny Mack suspects his right hand man of canoodling with?"

"I see you've caught up on my notes."

"Well, I didn't think you would bring it up, so yes, I did some internal investigation of my own."

"This isn't something to talk about here, Alex. But yes. As usual, you're right on the money."

Alex laid her menu down on the table, and leaned into the detective, her eyes startlingly bright. "Why on earth would you get in the middle of something that big?"

Olivia smiled over at her, for the first time feeling her anxiety drift away, if only for a moment. "Because it may be my way of making a difference." She gave Alex a wink as the attorney's words from earlier that morning resounded back to her, and for once, she didn't have a retort ready on her ruby red lips. Olivia let her eyes dart curiously towards the bar, watching Norquist's nervous behavior. Every few seconds, he looked anxiously out into the lobby, as if searching for someone. Olivia cocked her head, and resisted the urge to follow the man's gaze. He was in his mid-thirties, a young face, clean-shaven. Definitely one to attract someone besides his wife. Suddenly, he tossed the rest of his drink back, and abruptly left the bar, walking briskly toward the lobby. Alex began to stand, but Olivia motioned for her to stay put. "Eat," she said. "If both of us get up, we'll attract attention." The detective stood, giving her a confident smile, and exited, quickly catching Norquist's lead.

Alex watched her leave, and looked awkwardly around the room for a moment, hoping the men and women that occupied the tables around her hadn't noticed her table mate's departure. Of course, they were too enveloped into their own conversations, overwrought gestures coupled with haughty, disingenuous laughter. Her father had hated his business lunches at hotels just like this one, and had never made his disdain for business posturing a secret. She sighed. It didn't seem as if she'd ever have the opportunity to hate such lunches, but she had made peace with that. She roused herself from her reverie with a pronounced blink, and focused again on her menu. Wherever her boss had followed Norquist, it didn't seem like she'd be back anytime soon. She concentrated on the series of French names spilling across the page in overdone cursive. This would be quite a business expense.

A shadow loomed over her menu, and she raised her head, more than ready to ask the waiter a series of questions before making a final decision, but a tall, dapper gentleman looked down at her, smiling before taking a seat in the chair that Olivia had abdicated. His eyes were dark and brooding, with fine lines running across his forehead, but his mouth turned upwards into a warm, dazzling smile. His hair was dark, slicked back onto this head, with only a few significant grays belying his age. "I can't help but wonder why a woman so beautiful is sitting all alone?" He had a confidence about him as if he expected her to be pleased with his observation, or for that matter, with anything that came out of his upturned lips.

"Actually - "

He raised a hand, cutting her off. "Please, don't explain. I'm sure you're simply waiting for your charming husband or fiance to meet you for lunch, so I don't want to waste any time. I'm Jack Spade," he said, extending a large hand towards her.

Alex was sure her eyes had widened at the name, and she hoped her loudly thumping heart wasn't too prominent under her thin blouse. "Ah, Mr. Spade." She smiled, hoping it betrayed only charm, rather than anxiety. "I do believe you own this hotel."

"I believe I do," he returned, clearly pleased with himself, but also clearly charmed.

"It's lovely," she continued.

"You think so?"

She took another look around. "A bit overdone," she said, looking at him and raising an eyebrow, clearly testing him. He smiled at her, luckily appreciating her wit.

"Well, not everything can be quite as naturally beautiful as you. And where, my dear, are you from? Someplace with mediocre hotels, I assume?"

Alex swallowed. "Chicago."

Spade raised his eyebrows. "Chicago? That's no city for a woman like you. What's your name, doll?" He raised a hand, flagging over a waiter.

"Grace. Grace Stewart." She repeated the name quickly three times in her head, committing it to her own memory. It wouldn't look good to forget her own name in front of her new company. Spade smiled over at her.

"Miss Stewart, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The waiter approached them, and the young man raised an eyebrow at Alex. "Shall I cancel that Scotch, ma'am?" he asked, clearly confused by the musical chairs being played at her table.

"No," she replied, taking a chance that Olivia would be preoccupied long enough to allow her to milk something out of Jack Spade. "I will be dining alone, unfortunately."

"Nonsense," Spade said, smiling over at her. "Bring us a bottle, Louie, and the special." He turned his charm of a smile back toward Alex, and she met it, all the while hoping Olivia would continue to be occupied.

* * *

><p>Norquist meandered in the lobby for a few moments, his eye on the elevator bank to their far left, but he made no move forward, and instead took a seat in a nearby armchair, crossing and uncrossing his legs several times. Olivia snatched a newspaper off of the concierge desk, flapping it open, hoping to appear like a casual observer rather than a private investigator. Norquist had left the bar as if on a mission, and now he sat nervously, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. For these lunchtime visits to be so routine, he seemed to be quite anxious. He rose again, this time heading directly toward the elevator bank, and Olivia tucked the newspaper under her arm as she followed, watching as he entered the elevator well closest to the lobby. She craned her ear, catching his destination: "Sixth floor," he requested to the uniformed operator, who nodded, reaching a gloved hand toward the control pad.<p>

Olivia immediately headed for the stairs to her left, throwing open the door and taking them two at a time, thankful that she wasn't wearing anything that remotely resembled her assistant's heels. The stairwell was empty, which just as well, seeing as how she was sure she made quite a questionable sight, her breath already coming shorter and shorter as she rounded her way by the third floor. She burst onto the sixth floor landing, pausing for just a moment to quiet her breathing. She poked her head out into the hallway, which was empty, and slid out into it, heading towards the elevators. She heard footsteps around the corner, and quickly turned towards a closed hotel room door as Norquist rounded the corner. She snatched a key out of her pocket and attempted to fit it into the lock, angling her head down. It didn't fit, of course, seeing as it was her auto key, but Norquist didn't have to know that. She saw him walk down the length of the hallway, and knock on a door at the very end of it. The door opened, and the young man discreetly entered, giving one last look over his shoulder, seemingly noticing nothing suspicious about Olivia's attempts to open a hotel room door that wasn't hers. She gave up the rouse, and retraced his steps towards the end of the hallway. She feigned staring out of the window that looked out across the expanse of the avenue, and craned her attention towards the hotel room, drifting closer. She heard two voices, distinctly male, and pursed her lips. Maybe Norquist wasn't having an affair after all. But what conversation needed to be so secret as to have it in one of the most expensive hotel rooms in the city? She continued to listen, and even took the risk of leaning closer toward the door, just so much as to make out the mumbled words.

"_Too__ long, Richard, you make me wait too long."_

"_Shut up and kiss me."_

The door jarred, and Olivia immediately took a step back, startled. She heard distinct moans coming from just inside the door, overwhelmingly male, and she narrowed her eyes. Norquist was having an affair, it seemed, just not with the type his wife had suspected. Olivia leaned against the opposite wall. She'd never had a case turn out like this, not that it was a shocking outcome, based on her own sexual preference. She turned, heading back to the elevator bank, and didn't look forward to her next conversation with Norquist's wife. She would tell her, of course, that she had found nothing, and would return the woman's deposit. Olivia knew all too well the power of exposing such a direct secret. She leaned her head against the wall as the elevator operator returned her to the lobby.

She walked slowly back to the restaurant, wondering if she should share her new information with Alex. The blonde would, of course, ask a million questions about what Olivia had managed to uncover. She stopped short outside the restaurant, her lips parting and her eyes widening as she caught a glimpse of the man seated in front of her assistent. She squinted, making sure she had the right table, but that was definitely Alex's flowing blonde hair, the same white blouse, the always regal posture. She ducked quickly away as the host made his way back to the front of the restaurant, and she lowered her head, quickly walking towards the exit. She plunged through a set of revolving doors, and took a seat on a bench just outside the hotel, her legs shaking either from anger, fear, or both. Just what the hell did her assistant think she was doing?

* * *

><p>Alex had already drained most of her wine, and wished she didn't have her back to the entrance, just in case Olivia returned before Spade had departed. Judging by the leisurely way the man was enjoying his meal, he didn't seem to be in as much of a hurry as she was to see him leave. She had made up so many varying lies about her history throughout their conversation so far, that she almost wished she'd had Olivia's recording equipment, as bulky as it was, so that she could remember them later. Of course, she didn't assume she'd ever be in such close proximity to him again, so maybe her lies didn't matter. She decided they'd drifted through enough formalities, and, sure that Spade was simply entertaining his libido rather than some more dangerous intention, she plunged ahead. "So, Mr. Spade, what do you do for a living? Besides court lonely women in the lobbies of your own hotel, that is."<p>

"I'm in the trade business. Imports, exports. It's boring and tedious, but it helps fund the rest of my entrepreneurial whims." He gestured garishly at the elegant space around them.

"I certainly don't think the export market is boring these days, what with the war." Alex raised what she hoped was an intriguing eyebrow.

"How's that?"

She put her glass to her lips, sizing him up over its rim. "The US and its Allies aren't necessarily trading recipe secrets, Mr. Spade. There's a lot more exciting fare coming in and out of these harbors than textiles." She lowered her glass, hoping she hadn't overstepped her bounds, but the pounding of her pulse told her she may have.

"Fancy yourself an expert in domestic affairs, Miss Stewart?"

"No." Clearly, the wine was giving her more courage than she should have been displaying. "I'm just speaking as a woman who misses her butter and sugar," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Fortunately, he laughed. "You don't strike me as a woman who spends her time in the kitchen." He took a sip of his drink, and his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room around them. "There's a lot at stake now," he said, his dark eyes turning serious, losing their warm charm, which was replaced by a cold calculation. "Not just during the war, but after. These next years are not only going to make countries, Miss Stewart, they're going to make empires."

"I was under the impression Prohibition already made those empires." She felt the fire move in her gut, and she hoped it didn't flash through her eyes. The more she talked to Spade, the more she felt disgust clench her stomach.

Again, he smiled, intrigued by her. "You tell me. You're the Chicago dame here." She blushed at the mention of her storied hometown, and he mistook it for something more demure. "Miss Stewart, I am hosting a party on Saturday evening," he said. "I would love for you to come." She masked her surprise with another sip of her drink, draining the last of the dry wine. "I don't think so," she declined, with a polite shake of her head.

"I promise you I won't bother you and I promise you'll have a good time. There will plenty of people to keep you entertained. And I promise, they won't be trading recipes." His eyes sparkled over at her, and Alex wondered why he hadn't made his fortune in the movie business. He certainly did have a face that belonged on the screen. She knew his charm was one of his best weapons, and she hated him for it.

"That's a cordial invitation, Mr. Spade." She took a sip of her wine, mentally calculating her decision, not quite sure what the hell it should be, and for that very reason, decided to err on the side of complete abandon. "How could I refuse?"

He smiled. "Perfect. Saturday, 8:00, here at the hotel ballroom." He stood, and reached down for her hand, bringing it up to his lips. "Thank you for a wonderful lunch, Miss Stewart. You will be taken care of." He walked away, his stride long, confident, giving friendly nods towards most of the other patrons, his attention clearly upping their social capital for the day. Alex exhaled fully for the first time since he sat down, and she quickly waved the waiter back over. He stared down at her with a smile. "Another glass of wine, please," she requested quickly, her voice shaking. He started to move away, but she stopped him, her nerves finally catching up with her. "Make it a scotch."

* * *

><p>Olivia stretched her legs on the park bench that was digging into her thighs, pretending to casually read the paper that she held in front of her, but her thoughts were far from casual. She had left Alex alone for less than fifteen minutes and the woman had ended up lunching with the top henchman of the largest mob in all of Manhattan. Either she was that good, or that deceitful, and it was a little too early for Olivia to tell. Just in less than a week, she'd teetered back and forth between trusting the blonde and doubting her intentions, and it was becoming quite tiring. Each time she trusted her gut, she was met with another revelation that sent her spiraling back towards suspicion. The way Jack Spade had leaned into her over the table, talking lowly to her, certainly didn't help things.<p>

She glanced down at her watch again, impatient. She could simply leave. If Alex was savvy enough to score lunch with Jack Spade, she could figure out a way back to the office. But despite her frustration and confusion, Olivia was intrigued. One of her many downfalls in life was her attraction to complicated women, but she was determined not to let this particular one influence her too much. Not when it came to her business. But, maybe she could use this slice of blonde beauty to her advantage. Her eye flashed towards the entrance, where she saw Alex pull her coat tightly around her waist, halting briefly outside the door as her eyes flitted over the sidewalk. They warmed as they settled on Olivia, and she gave a quick jerk of her head before turning and walking briskly up the block. Olivia stood, taking time to fold her newspaper carefully, all the time watching as Alex made a right turn at the next corner. She tucked the paper into her pocket, and headed in the opposite direction, quickly making her next left.

She picked up her pace as she turned the corner, weaving her way towards the next block before making another left, effectively landing her on the small avenue behind the hotel. She saw Alex immediately, who closed their loop and eventually came in step with her boss. "What the hell was that?" Olivia asked, her head bent towards the sidewalk as they walked the few blocks back towards her car.

"That was Jack Spade."

"I know that. You didn't mention that you were so friendly with him."

"I'm not friendly with him. But Miss Grace Stewart made quite an impression," she said, with a private smile.

Olivia put a hand out and halted their progress, confident that they were far enough away from the hotel that she could demand the answers that she had been waiting for over an hour. "Want to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing in there? He's a dangerous man, Alex."

The blonde jerked her hand out of the detective's grip, and anger scaled her features, pooling in her eyes. "You don't have to tell me that," she said, suddenly feeling the onslaught of the alcohol, the adrenaline, and her fear. She leaned against a brick storefront, the coolness of the wall infiltrating her coat, calming her. "He just sat down in front of me. What was I supposed to do, surpass an opportunity?"

"An opportunity for what?" Olivia said, trying to keep her voice low. "Trust me, it's best if a man like that not know who you are."

"Well, it was too late for that the minute he came over and introduced himself, don't you think? Besides, I think Johnny Mack's suspicions could be right about him. He's not dealing with just old fashioned rationed goods anymore. He's got his eyes on a much bigger black market."

"He told you that? A woman he's never met before?"

Alex shook her head. "No, not in so many words, but I plan on finding out."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"By fishing around at the party he's throwing this Saturday night, which I received a rather cordial invite to. I would bet that most of his fellow businessmen in the "export" business will be there." Excitement flashed through her, and she waited for her boss' response.

Olivia's lips parted in surprise, but her awe was quickly overshadowed by the dangers involved in having her new assistant, a novice at that, undergo such an operation. Could it even be considered an operation if it had happened entirely by accident? She shook her head. "No. Nice job, Ms. Cabot, you certainly know how to use those baby blues to your advantage, but no."

Alex gave her a hard stare, her face suddenly stoic, which Olivia believed was only the calm before the storm. Sure enough, with one breath, the blonde railed on her. "You really are a piece of work, you know that? I'm beginning to think you're not so much as a loner, Detective, in so much as you're just merely a selfish, cold-hearted miscreant searching for validation. You can't stand someone else stealing your thunder, can you?"

It was true, but that wasn't the reason Olivia was putting her foot down. She had already had Elliot's head dangled in front of her as a threat, and she really didn't need any more leverage over it. And she was beginning to realize that despite her almost constant irritation at the blonde's obsequiousness, she was having quite an effect on her. She took a moment, exhaling, but Alex took advantage of it, continuing her case.

"It's a standard undercover operation."

"There's nothing standard about Jack Spade and black market arms trading, Alex. Jesus Christ." She ran a hand through her hair, mussing it as she stared back at the blonde.

"I think you should start calling me Miss Grace Stewart," the blonde said, a sparkle in her eye as she reached up and pushed a rogue strand of the detective's hair back into place. "After all, I'll need to get used to it come Saturday." Despite her teasing, Olivia saw a brief flash of uncertainty float through the blue eyes. The sun shifted behind a cloud for a moment, and the shadow darkened the corner where they stood. "You can't accept this job from Johnny without someone on your team, Detective," she continued. "I think I've proven I'm as good as anyone else." The shadow dissipated, and Alex's confident smile returned as she pushed herself off the wall. "I think I've also proven that I deserve more than a secretary's salary."

* * *

><p><strong>I promise to keep the updates coming sooner... consider it a new year's resolution. And remember, I love your feedback :)<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Trouble with Dames  
>Chapter 6<br>**

Once satisfied that she had drilled as much information about Jack Spade out of her assistant as she possibly could, Olivia put the particulars on the back burner, letting it marinate in the hollows of her mind, and instead focused on the scenes outside her window, smooth and bustling along Park, then morphing into grittier scenes the closer they came to the East Side. Whatever Alex did uncover, if she were to attend the party Saturday night, could potentially shorten Olivia's dealings with Johnny. The sooner the detective found something he could use, the sooner she would be out from under his thumb, and that was a bright point that she couldn't overlook. Still, she wasn't keen on the idea of the blonde traipsing around a room full of dangerous, prowling men, no matter how jovial they seemed. One wrong move and they could both be in deep trouble. Or in deep waters, judging by the power Johnny had over New York's harbors.

"What about Norquist?"

The sound of Alex's voice pulled her attention back to the present, and she glanced briefly over at the blonde, wondering how long she'd been trying to get her attention. "Norquist?" she parroted, her brain still not quite catching up.

Alex gave her an odd look as she nodded. "Where did you follow him?"

Olivia turned her attention back to the road. "Upstairs to a hotel room. He is indeed having an affair."

"So his wife was right."

"Not exactly," Olivia responded, recalling the masculine moans she'd heard through the hotel door.

"What do you mean?"

"He's having an affair with a man." She snuck a look at Alex, waiting for the distasteful curl of a lip, the disgust crinkling the brow, all expressions that she'd grown familiar with over the years. But Alex's countenance remained level, except for a brief, surprised heightening of her eyebrows.

"It's still an affair," she surmised. "What are you going to tell his wife?"

Olivia crinkled her lip. "I'm not telling her anything. I'm discontinuing the case and refunding her money."

She felt the familiar blue gaze on her, but kept her eyes glued to the road as she turned a corner. "You can't do that. She hired you to uncover the truth."

"Alex, people come to me because they already know something deep down, on some subconscious level. They are prepared for an outcome, and they come to me to confirm it. This is not the outcome that Mrs. Norquist prepared for. I'm not exposing him." She navigated her own moral code, and although she knew it was ambiguous to accept a job from a mobster while abandoning a case from an average housewife, she simply let her gut guide her. Her assistant, however, seemed steered by a much more rigid code of ethics.

"So, he's just going to continue to lie to her?"

"Not my problem." Olivia expected her to push further, in that aggrandizing tone she had seemingly perfected, but she slipped a look at the younger woman as a respectful silence resounded in the car. The blonde's eyes studied her, not holding a reprimand, or even a question, but instead seeming to offer some sort of confessionary glimmer, which flickered quickly away as she met the detective's gaze. She kept her focus on something outside of the window as they pulled up to the curb in front of the office.

Olivia didn't make a move to get out of the car, prompting Alex to look over her shoulder. "Are you coming back up?"

"I've got a couple of more stops to make," she replied, already back inside her head, focused on her next destination.

"You're going to go tell Johnny that you'll help him."

A brief, distracted nod, and Alex chose not to prod, not after pulling her lunch stint with Spade. "Good luck, Detective," she said simply, climbing out of the car. Her scent lingered, and Olivia inhaled it, the warm, sweet smell now familiar to her. It flicked a memory in her mind, and she pulled away from the curb, intent on making one more stop before her visit to Johnny. One that she had been meaning to make for awhile now, and one that siphoned even her deepest pools of courage.

* * *

><p>Birdie's sign was unlit, its lazy cursive font deadened in the daylight. The smaller sign nestled inside the door read closed, but the club was always open, a consistent refuge for women who simply needed a space to be themselves. It was nearly empty inside, with only a few women pitched idly at tables, some bent over small lunch plates, others perusing the latest manifesto of whatever Nan had left out on the reading table that sat in one corner. Nan had converted the space into a lounge several years ago, after it had served as the campaign nerve center for a particularly nasty legislative fight on women's rights that had not gone the way the suffragists had intended. The headquarters moved to a swanky location in the Upper East Side, where Nan completed most of her formal business, and the old space was converted. No one that ventured below 14th Street had a problem with the leanings of its patrons, and no one above 14th Street would ever venture to the area long enough to explore them.<p>

Olivia gave a friendly nod toward the two waitresses that sat at the bar, each sifting through pamphlets espousing the truths of true and unbridled femininehood, and continued her course toward the back of the room, a path that she knew all too well from having traversed it for years. Sure enough, Nan was seated at the circular booth in the back, alone, her shiny auburn head bent towards an open notebook, papers littered about her. She was more than likely counting figures, or else working on a speech that she would deliver to a city women's club the next day. Nan worked hard, and often, and Olivia had seen her exercise the same level of concentration even in the loudness of a packed crowd, always awed by how she could simply extricate herself from what was going on around her. That may be one of the things that served her progressive politics so well.

She looked up as Olivia walked towards her. Nan's oval face, bow-shaped mouth, and eyes the color of emeralds made her appear delicate, but the movements of her compact body were always forceful and intentional, giving her a powerful, deliberate aura. Her voice, low and heady, was always businesslike, and the words that slipped from her full lips were often better placed inside a men's smoking lounge than the feminist women's circles she so often frequented. It was this very juxtaposition of beauty and business that had first attracted Olivia, but it had been the intensity of their connection that had kept her around for three years, even after it was more than clear that they were each on two distinct, very separate paths.

"Detective Benson," Nan greeted. "Always a pleasure." She smiled at her formality and pulled the detective by the arm into the booth next to her. "Haven't seen you here in weeks. I guess all it takes is a couple of murders on Stabler's beat, and you come running." Her words were harsh, but her eyes soft, and she reached a hand over, running her fingers through the bangs that dangled over the detective's forehead. "You need a haircut," she said, with a smirk behind her pursed lips. "You look like a newsboy."

"I hear that's the look these days."

"Maybe for newsboys." Her smile faded, and she rested her pen on a piece of paper emblazoned with her own letterhead. Olivia recognized the familiar, scrawling print, had seen it hundreds of times while drifting off to sleep, even while Nan stayed awake working from bed into the early hours of the morning: "_From the Desk of Nan Vernon."_ She had rid herself of the taint of her Czech name years ago, insisting that Anezka Vacek didn't roll of the tongues of wealthy women as easily as her alias did. Olivia wasn't even sure she answered to her given name at all anymore, not even when uttered by her own mother.

The green eyes looked up at her. "Let's get the business out of the way, shall we? Are you here doing Elliot's dirty work for him?"

Olivia met her gaze with equal levelness. "Consider yourself lucky that it's merely me, and not NYPD, around here asking questions."

Nan's eyebrows rose, challenging her. "Let them ask away. There is nothing illegal going on here," she said. "Elliot and his troops can come marching in here any time they want." Her face morphed into a knowing, calculating smirk. "That is, if they weren't so afraid of us." She tossed her hand in the air, physically moving the conversation forward. "What do you want to know?"

"Who was the girl?"

She sighed, tucking a stray piece of hair into a bone-colored comb-tooth clip. "I don't know. One of Spade's girls, I assume. Tara, my new waitress - I don't think you've met her, but she's an absolute doll - said she used to see her standing out on Bowery. She probably lived in that eyesore of a building on the corner."

"You think it was just a john gone bad?"

Nan's eyes seemed worried for a moment, but she quickly disguised it with wit. "For her, maybe. But for whoever did it, they certainly got away with murder. Twice. It's the same MO as the last one, the girl they found over on Jensen Street. They found a ring in her throat. This one, a necklace."

Olivia looked at her, surprised. "How did you know that? They kept it out of the papers." She had only known after Elliot had shared the grim information with her over coffee.

"Olivia, darling, they keep everything out of the papers these days." She shrugged. "Who needs the papers when you've got the best and the brightest of Skid Row on your doorstep every morning? I hear what I need to hear." She picked up her pen again. "Are you sufficiently satisfied that I can't help your precious Lieutenant?"

Olivia hesitated, debating whether to launch into the real reason she had come by the club. "Then maybe you can help me."

The remark caught Nan exactly where Olivia wanted it to. As tough as she was, the redhead craved vulnerability, was attracted to it, especially in when exuded by the unreachable detective. "With what?" she asked, curiosity fully piqued behind her eyes.

"Nicky Burns. Heard anything about him around here?"

The eyes cooled, narrowing just a bit. "Why are you fishing after him?"

"I have my reasons."

Her pen hesitated on its page, but she set it down again. "He's been partaking in his share of the business over on Bowery. And bragging about it, from what I hear. Men always seem to want to heighten their positions around the very women who could care less about where their money is coming from." She shook her head with a smile. "I've never seen a creature that feeds so much on power."

"Is he working with Jack Spade?"

"I assume that Jack is working with everyone. I don't know how deep his relationship with Nicky goes. Or what he would get out of it, for that matter." She frowned, turning a concerned eye toward Olivia. "What are you in the middle of exactly?"

"I don't know yet. But Johnny Mack's poking around, wondering why Nicky's suddenly so friendly with his main rival."

"So let him. What do you care?"

"He wants me to help him." She cut her eyes. "He's forcing me to help him."

"Olivia, it's all well and good to investigate cheating husbands, or dabble in feminist politics, or to hell, even run a club for queer misfits." She gestured around her. "But you don't get involved in mob politics. It's not a lengthy career. There are plenty of dead bodies floating around the harbor that can prove it. And a couple around here lately, for that matter."

"So you do think these murders are mob related."

"It doesn't matter what I think, because I know enough to keep my nose out of it."

Olivia leaned back into the booth. "I don't have a choice, Nan."

"What's he hanging over your head?"

"Something important enough."

"Olivia, if you came here for my help, at least be open with me."

"I didn't come for help, Nan, I came for information." The comment had its usual sting, and Nan's eyes chilled.

"Sometimes I worry about you."

"That's not part of our arrangement."

"It's part of our friendship."

"Is that what we're calling it these days?"

"It's hard to call it anything different when you don't come by."

Olivia shook her head. "That's not on me. You never have time. Always busy with the club, a speech, something."

"Well blame the war. Women are finally husbandless for once, and discovering they like being in the company of other women. Some more than others," she finished with a grin. "Besides, someone as beautiful as you are, you can have any woman you choose."

Olivia grinned. "Except you."

"I tried, Olivia. You made your choice."

It may have been her choice, but it certainly hadn't been a concrete decision, not based on the rate at which the two of them still relied on a casual embrace, an intermittent night of lust here and there. She deliberately changed the subject. "I hired an assistant."

Nan's eyebrows rose. "A girl friday? Fancy yourself a real Detective now, huh?" Her eyes were playful. "What's she like?"

"A mystery."

"Well, we know how much you fancy those. Where's she come from?"

"New York. Her name's Cabot. She's the daughter of former DA Cabot." Being a few years older than Olivia, and having been living in the city during the DA's tenure, Nan was sure to recognize the name. Sure enough, curiosity flashed across her eyes.

"Clearly, Olivia, you're going to have to come visit more often. You've been busy, my dear. What else have you done this week that will that will shock me?"

"The final shock is yet to come. I'm on my way to see Johnny." She plucked Nan's wrist up from the table, and glanced at the silver watch that she wore. "I should go. If I delay him any longer, he's going to start getting suspicious."

Nan didn't speak, but Olivia could practically hear her thoughts, and she removed her hand from Olivia's grip, and instead placed it on the detective's suit-covered arm. "Why don't you come by tonight?" The green eyes were vulnerably hopeful, and unguarded, a look that Olivia had been privy to for years before finally mucking things up for the last time. "You know," she said, a familiar laughable glint appearing in her eye, "just so I can make sure you're not dead in a ditch somewhere in Lucky territory."

Olivia gave her a smile. "The way things are going, I'd probably be found on Rabbit turf." She squeezed Nan's hand, intentionally making no promises. "Bye, Nan." She walked back towards the door, and could pinpoint the exact moment that Nan's gaze left her back and returned back to her work.

* * *

><p>The dock was becoming all too familiar a scene for Olivia, and she wasn't sure that settled well in her gut. As kids, she and Elliot had spent hours sneaking around the docks near their own neighborhood, and she generally associated them with innocence and good will. She didn't appreciate that Johnny was destroying that memory.<p>

A tall man opened the door after her knock, and she looked questionably up at him. "Slim not around?" She was so used to interacting with him, and usually anticipated his large, hulking frame. As much as she hated him, she took some comfort in having him around. The tall, much thinner man looked down at her, unspeaking. Clearly, he wasn't as much of a conversationalist as Slim. Olivia shrugged, and followed him into the warehouse, which was this time filled with boxes, the majority of which were probably not exactly legal.

The thin man left her after escorting her to Johnny's office, where he was finishing up a phone call. He smiled thinly at her, and motioned her into the seat in front of his desk. "Listen, Griggs, you tell him that if he doesn't get that regulation passed, his mother's gonna be scraping his balls of the street outside his brownstone, you got it?" He dropped the phone into its holster and morphed his expression into a welcoming smile. "Benson. I hope you're here to make my day a little brighter."

"Where's Slim? I always appreciate his gentle charm," Olivia said dryly.

Johnny chuckled. "That is his signature, ain't it?" He sat, and clasped his hands together. "He's on a personal errand," he said, with a wave of his hand. "Probably has to do with some dame. Had his hair so shiny it blinded the gulls. But I'm sure he'll be glad you've decided to take me on as a client," he said with a charming smile. "Otherwise I'd have him pay you a visit."

"Clients pay."

"Oh, I plan on paying you, Detective. A nice, lump sum if you're able to come up with enough to stop the Rabbits arms deal."

Olivia leaned in. "How do you know about this in the first place?"

Johnny chuckled. "Nicky. Slim overheard him bragging to some broad about it. Now, I ain't dealing in no black market arms, so he ain't talking about me. So I did a little digging, found out that Nicky's been having a couple nightly meetings with Jack Spade near the harbor. Now, look, I know we all got to have our niche, but I'm just looking out for the good of Manhattan here. You know what would happen if the Rabbits started dealing guns to every knucklehead in the city?"

"Same thing that would happen if the Luckys got their hands on them, I'm sure."

Johnny shook his head. "Not my thing, Detective. I'm making a killing right now. I don't need the added stress."

"What do you know about the bodies in Skid Row?"

"The tricks? Don't know nothing about it, other than Spade needs to educate his johns. Don't go beating up on the ladies, attracting unwanted attention."

"You're not behind it? Want to force the cops to go picking around his territory?"

Johnny looked at her darkly. "Not a bad idea. But like I said before. I'm not into killing, and I'm not into negotiating with any more judges than I have to already. What you need to be asking," he said, stabbing his finger in the air, "is why the DA is so loathe to investigate the murders."

"The cops are driving the investigation. They're on it."

Johnny shook his head. "Uh uh. Chief Talbot's driving it, just for the papers, but he's not taking it seriously. They'll arrest some kid, call it a job well done. The DA won't prosecute anyone else, and they definitely won't disturb their lucrative arrangement with the Rabbits."

Olivia was thoughtful for a moment, and decided to take a chance. "What do you remember about DA Charles Cabot?"

Johnny flinched, surprised at the question. "He was a pain in the ass. Decent enough guy, but that was his biggest problem."

"What was?"

"That he was a decent guy. He wouldn't play the game. That's why he was eventually pushed out of it."

"By who?"

He laughed. "By a faulty mechanic, I don't know. Why are you breaking my balls over a dead DA? Remember where your priorities lay, Detective." He reached into his desk, and pulled out a roll of cash, flipping out several bills and tossing them onto his desk. "Here's a deposit for your trouble. The rest comes when I get what I want."

Olivia didn't reach for the cash, and instead opted to set some parameters of her own. She stared hard at him, her voice edged with hostility. "If I do this, I'm turning all I get over to NYPD. I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure that whatever the Rabbits have going down doesn't trickle down to you." She glared at him, leaning back in her chair.

Johnny seemed unburdened by her conditions, probably because he knew he had the police in his back pocket. "Glad to have you on board, Detective. We'll make a great team."

"We're not on the same team, Johnny."

"These days, the lines we draw ain't so clear, are they?" He raised his eyebrows at her, and she resisted the urge to plow her fist into his smile. She stood, straightening the jacket of her suit, and turned, leaving Johnny and his money to stare after her.

* * *

><p>Alex felt her glasses slip down her nose and gave them a nudge with her finger before turning the page of her book, which was now opened to Chapter Six: Staging an Undercover Operation. A knock at the door startled her, and she internally chastised herself for her edginess. "Come in," she called, pulling her glasses off and straightening herself in her chair. A large, hulking square of a man waltzed in, turning sideways to ease through the narrow frame of the door. He didn't glance around at the office like her other visitors had, and Alex guessed he'd been to the space once or twice. He slipped his hat off his head, using a hand to smooth down the slickness of his hair, which Alex noted, had so much gel in it that it barely moved.<p>

"Evening," he said, flashing a set of straight, if yellow, teeth.

Alex returned the gesture, politely, if not exactly genuine. "How can I help you?"

He took the liberty of tossing his hat on the coat rack, seemingly pleased with his accurate aim, and turned back to her, his hair gleaming under the light bulb. "I'm looking for Detective Benson."

"She's not in at the moment. Would you like to schedule a consultation?" Alex got the eerie feeling that she was supposed to know who this man was – that he expected her to know him.

He laughed. "That shouldn't be necessary. We've, uh, already had our _consultation_ last week." His eyes scanned the office, forming a full circle before landing headily back on Alex. "Then you'll be fine with me taking a message?" she asked tersely, reaching for her pen.

"I would love for you to take a message," he said, taking a few steps closer, placing his hands on the desk as he leaned over her. "From a Mr. Slim Marlowe."

She knew the name, recognized it from her very first day, and instantly placed the heavy, thick voice as the man she had spoken with over the phone; his message was still stored in her desk. The same man who worked for Johnny Mack, who, according to Olivia, was the man she was supposed to be meeting with. So why was his main henchman standing in her office? She felt the hairs on the back of her next stand up.

Alex rose from her chair, his eyes feeling distinctively threatening. She forced herself to look him in the eye, and kept her voice light and unassuming. "Let me just grab my message pad," she said. "I must have left it in her office." She slid past him, holding in her breath as she let herself touch his arm lightly with her hand. "Sometimes I can be so forgetful," she said, letting her voice lilt higher than usual.

Grazing into the room on wobbly legs, she moved immediately behind Olivia's desk, brushing her fingers lightly along the underside of its surface, hoping that the object she'd come across during her first day cleaning was still there. She heard a rustle at the threshold to the office, then a click of the door as it shut behind her visitor. She gave him a feigned smile, bending her head back towards the desk, pretending to search for the aforementioned message pad as he ambled up behind her. She stiffened as his breath drifted hotly over her neck, his large frame casting a shadow over the desk.

A clammy finger ran up the back of her arm, underneath the sleeve of her blouse. "How did Detective Benson attract such a lovely woman to this dour office?" The finger continued up her arm, moving across her collarbone. "Hmm?" he asked. His fingers snaked up to her neck, their mere placement stopping Alex from breathing, and she stood frozen as his lips neared her ear. "And how could she leave such a beautiful, defenseless woman by herself?"

Alex moved quickly, her hand darting underneath the desk, grasping for the object her fingers had brushed only moments before, and she turned to face him, his small eyes widening as she placed the barrel of a small gun squarely against his large neck. "I wouldn't say I'm that defenseless, would you?" she asked, pressing the end of the gun further into his skin.

Slim's eyes had surpassed surprised, and now looked nervously down at the gun, but he laughed at her. "Sweetheart, you don't have the first clue what to do with that," he said.

Alex pursed her lips and pointed the gun quickly towards the ceiling, pulling the trigger. The shot left the barrel with a loud bang, but instead of shooting straight up, its strong pullback forced her aim sideways, and the bullet zigzagged into a far wall. She flinched, but placed the gun back against his cheek. "My aim not be the best," she said, "but you're a big enough target that I think I could do some damage."

She pressed into him, forcing him back towards the door. Slim watched her nervously, monitoring her trigger finger as he gave her a winning smile, holding his hands up defenselessly. "Ms. Cabot, you got some spark in you. Literally." He nodded towards the gun. "Make sure you let Detective Benson know I enjoyed meeting her new security guard." He winked at her, regaining his confidence, and opened the door, sliding back towards the outer office. Alex stood rooted to her spot, listening for the sound of the main door slamming shut. "Until we meet again," he called, his voice fading along as he made his way, rather quickly judging from the quick sound of his footsteps on the stairwell, down to the street.

She heard another door slam, this one upstairs, and she readied her gun again, trying to keep her hands steady this time. Cragen whisked inside the office, reeling as he caught sight of the object the young woman wielded at him. "Jesus Christ," he said, placing his hands defensively in front of him. "Cabot, what the hell are you doing?"

Alex lowered the gun, shakily, as if in a daze. She looked over at Cragen, her mouth parted slightly as her breath began to return to her. "I was aiming for the ceiling," she said by way of a less than helpful explanation, setting the gun back onto Olivia's desk. She took a few meandering steps toward the doorway, her legs seemingly jellied underneath her. "I can't feel my feet," she said simply, right before her knees gave out.

Cragen reached for her. "Okay, okay, Cabot," he said, bracing her arms and moving her to the tattered couch that sat near them. "Looks like you and the wall had quite a good scare." He squatted in front of her, staring up at a pair of widened, blank eyes. "You need a glass of water," he said as she sat, breathing heavily.

She shook her head. "I don't need any water," she said willfully, pegging him with a steel blue gaze. "I need a drink."

* * *

><p>The damp chill in the air pushed Olivia towards the warmth of Cragen's rather than her own office. The thought of a drink and conversation was a bit more comfortable than the thought of an empty office. Alex would have surely already left for the day, and if she hadn't, then Olivia was in no mood to argue the ins and outs of private investigation with her again. The bell jangled as she pushed the door open, and she nodded at a couple of gentleman already occupying the booth by the door. She walked over to the edge of the bar, and felt an sudden spasm in her gut. Alex sat at the far end of the bar, her head staring into a glass. Cragen was already walking towards the detective, a towel slung over his shoulder.<p>

"I see she's making herself at home," Olivia said with a nod at the end of the bar.

Cragen tossed her a worried glance, but she was too exhausted to take heed of it. "Benson, you should know – "

She put a hand up. "I got it, Cragen."

He tried again. "Benson, you need to - "

"I said I can handle it. If a girl can't handle her hired help, then what good is she?" Olivia walked slowly towards the end of the bar, Alex only bothering to look up at her when her shadow crept over her glass. "Rough day at the office?" the detective joked, leaning casually against the counter. Alex didn't crack a smile, but instead stared up at her, the low light casting a haunted look in her eyes.

"You had a visitor today," she replied, her voice flat, without its usual hilt of confidence.

Olivia narrowed an eye. "What visitor?" she asked, feeling her neck tense.

"Mr. Slim Marlowe. Stupid, ironic name." Alex took another sip of her drink, pleased to see her hands were no longer shaking. The alcohol had taken care of that.

A shade of fear crept over Olivia's face, but she pushed it back, angling her head further down, trying to ascertain her assistant's condition. "What did he want?"

"I don't know," Alex said, shaking her head.

"You don't know? What did he say?"

Alex laughed derisively, recalling the coil of fear in her stomach, Slim's widened eyes as she pointed the gun towards his flabby chin. "Not much."

Olivia felt her fear growing, but she masked it with impatience, putting a hand on the blonde's thin shoulder, the skin hot to her touch through the thin blouse that covered it, and turned her assistant towards her. "What the hell happened?"

Alex's eyes narrowed. "He got a little too forward."

Olivia let the words seep into her for a moment before pounding her fist onto the counter. "That fathead piece of shit." She composed herself, taking a breath. "I'll take care of him."

Alex pointed her head back towards her drink. "I took care of it."

"How exactly did you take care of it?"

"I shot him."

Olivia heard Cragen chuckle a few yards away, but didn't bother darting him another glare. "What do you mean, you _shot_ him?"

"I shot _at_ him."

"Shit," the detective muttered, slumping into the seat behind her, massaging her temple. She glanced at the blonde, who sat rigidly in her chair, but who otherwise seemed fine. That didn't mean she would be so lucky the next time. "Shit," she repeated. "This isn't a good idea."

Alex looked over at her, emotion igniting in her eyes for the first time since Olivia had stepped foot in the bar. "What do you mean?"

"This job is dangerous, Alex."

"I can take care of myself, Detective." She bristled.

Olivia shook her head. "I knew this was a bad idea," she said, once again eclipsing her fear with anger. "I can't do my job and look after daddy's little girl, too."

She didn't see the lightning fast flash of Alex's wrist, or the glint of the glass as it angled towards her, but she certainly felt the stinging alcohol splash across her face. She sat in shock for a moment as the liquid dribbled down her cheeks and below her chin, spotting her shirt and dribbling down her chest. The blonde's eyes were seething as she slammed her empty glass back on the bar, quickly getting to her feet. Silently, she moved towards the back of the room, heading up the back staircase and towards the office, not bothering to give Olivia a second look.

Cragen walked gingerly over, a towel hanging over his shoulder. He glanced at Olivia, and then moved his eyes to the towel, handing it out to her. "You need this, Benson, or do you still have everything under control?"

Olivia snatched the towel from him, wiping the alcohol from her face with a harsh swipe. He watched her with a fatherly expression, as if waiting for her to espouse the moral of some lesson he hoped she had just learned. "Benson, she handled herself well. Slim was gone before I even got upstairs, which mean she spooked him pretty good." He shrugged. "There is a nice-size whole in your wall, which I'll be charging you for. Other than that, it could have been a lot worse."

Olivia tossed the towel back to him. "That's what I'm afraid of, Cragen. It always gets worse."

She slowly made her way up the back staircase towards her office, the smell of scotch permeating her damp shirt. The door to her office was flung open and she heard the blonde rustling about angrily from inside. She debated knocking on the open door, signaling her arrival, but then remembered that it was her office, to enter and exit when she pleased. Alex stood behind her desk, dropping the very few personal items she had into her purse. She didn't look up when Olivia walked in, keeping her head down, her hands busy.

"Alex," the detective said, moving in front of the desk, peeling her wet jacket off and tossing it onto the chair next to her. Still no eye contact, but Olivia saw the shoulders tense in acknowledgement, however tacit it was, as she shuffled a stack of papers on her desk. "Alex," she said again, this time reaching over and placing her hand on top of her assistant's, halting her nervous movement.

The sudden touch startled both of them, even Olivia, and their eyes met across the desk for a brief second, before Alex turned away. "Leave me alone," she said. "Save whatever you have to say for your new girl friday."

Olivia felt the need to speak, but consoling beautiful women wasn't her strong suit. Nan had let her know that many times over. But, for reasons she couldn't explain, she spoke, hoping her words would somehow entice the woman, who she had kept around for some inexplicable reason, to stay. "Look, this can be a dangerous job." It didn't sound like much of an apology, and it didn't look like the blonde had thought much of it either, judging by the way her eyes flitted up for a brief second before rolling back towards her purse. She tried again: "What you saw down there was my own fear, Alex. Plain and simple."

The thin fingers slowed their nervous shuffling, and Olivia saw Alex inhale deeply. When the eyes looked back up at her, she saw something shift in them, bearing an intimacy that she hadn't seen there before. "Fear uncovers things inside of us," the blonde said, her voice just above a whisper. "What exactly are you afraid of?"

Olivia felt something crumble inside her, and she felt like a coward. She could face down Johnny Mack with no problem, but yet she couldn't face her own personal demons, and this beautiful woman seemed to know it. She took a step forward, closing the space between the two of them and stared down into the blue eyes, waiting for Alex to back away from her, but she didn't. Olivia worked to put a voice to her thoughts, but something just underneath the surface held them inside her. "I don't know," she replied, taking a step back.

Alex took moved forward, closing the gap again, as if needing the closeness. "I'm afraid of being crippled by fear." She peered at the brunette in front of her, absorbing the look of her: the deep, dark eyes, the set jaw, but there was a gentleness about her that was entirely comforting. "I was, for a long time. I won't ever let it win again."

"Then don't leave."

They stayed like that for a moment, too close, each not willing to move away. Olivia knew she had to speak, if only to break the silence that seemed to be pushing them closer together. "Alex, I don't know why you're here, or where the hell this drive of yours comes from, but I could use you around here. As more than an assistant," she said, hoping her words were having some effect.

"If I stay," Alex said thoughtfully, reaching into a drawer on her desk, "then I'm keeping this." She held up Olivia's gun with a commanding hand, her lip curling slightly as the detective raised a surprised eyebrow.

"How'd you even know where to find that?"

"I'm resourceful."

Olivia smiled. "That's why I want to keep you around," she said, a gleam in her eye. Her gaze returned to the gun, and she reached out for it, pocketing it in the waist of her trousers. "First off, though, let me give you a few lessons on how to use this before you holster it in that handbag of yours."

* * *

><p>Alex walked up to her apartment, the weight of the day finally settling into her shoulders. She wanted nothing more than to fall onto her old, bowed mattress and fall asleep, hoping the images of Slim wouldn't slip into her dreams. She rounded the stairwell, and immediately noticed the white square of a letter stuck in her door, its bright, clean surface a striking difference between the dinginess surrounding it. She pulled it from the door, keeping her head bowed as her neighbor, a girl her own age, but who looked ten years older, slipped out of her apartment, ready to brave the winter air in nothing but a flimsy excuse for a dress. She brushed by Alex, giving her a once over. "Won't make any money up here, darlin'," she called over her shoulder, her heels clicking down the stairs.<p>

Alex looked back down at the note, gingerly unfolding it, her hands visibly beginning to shake as she grazed over the simple, scrawled words: _Come inside. Door's open._ She backed away for a moment, pressing against the wall opposite her door, her alarm rising even as she tried to sort through the basics in her head. How had he gotten in? Her landlord? A neighbor? The lock wasn't broken or jammed, but then again, it wasn't that strong of a barrier. She took a step towards the stairwell, then back towards her door, her own dance of indecision only increasing her fear. She knew that's what he took pleasure in, what fed his insatiable thirst for power: fear. Her own voice echoed in her mind, the words that she'd said to her boss no more than an hour earlier, and she placed her hand on the knob of her door.

* * *

><p>Olivia watched as the blonde slipped inside her apartment building, her movements slower, but no less graceful. Her assistant had refused once again to accept a ride home, only caving when the detective insisted on at least paying for a cab, following it discreetly just to make sure that Slim didn't have any more big ideas. She watched the darkened third floor window, waiting for the flick of a light to let her know that the blonde had finally made it inside. Soon enough, a light did flicker on, illuminating the apartment's bare interior. She squinted, confused, as a figure rose from a chair, distinctly male, and walked out of the frame, forcing the detective to crane her neck. Whoever the man was, he hadn't been there the last time Alex had come home. Her assistant hadn't mentioned a boyfriend, although Olivia could hardly believe there weren't men lined up auditioning for such a role. She stood, intrigued, and told herself that her curiosity came only from a sense of platonic protection rather than something much more visceral.<p>

* * *

><p>The lamp flicked on as Alex shut the door behind her, and she watched as the familiar figure rose from his chair with a smile on his face. He was dressed in a well-fitting, and she imagined expensive, suit that settled across his broad shoulders easily, and a red handkerchief peaked up out of his chest pocket. "Alexandra," he said. "Welcome… home. I guess you could call it that," he said, glancing around the sparse interior with feigned pity.<p>

"Robert, how did you get in here?" she asked vehemently.

His gray eyes sparkled, glinting in the low light of the apartment as he took a look around. There wasn't much to see, and for the first time she saw her place as he would see it through his privileged eyes: an alcove held what was a sad attempt at a kitchen, and an old bed sat in a small nook that was just large enough to encase it; a lonely rocking chair sat by the window, a small vase of flowers sitting upon a stack of books piled beside it. Alex's books, her notepads, everything lay scattered on the floor, in small organized piles.

Robert turned his attention back to her, letting his eyes roam across her. "Your landlord wanted his rent. I wanted to see where my lovely stepsister had settled down. We struck a deal." He laughed. "This is certainly... quaint."

Her eyes were daggers, her voice slicing towards him. "I want you to leave."

"But we've hardly got a chance to catch up." His skin was smooth, and by all intents and purposes women were drawn to the ease of his smile, and the dimple that pecked his left cheek. But his eyes had always frightened Alex, their color unnamable, something between gray and green, and they held a wild murkiness that followed her in her dreams.

"What do you want?"

He sifted through a couple of books, casually perusing them with an almost academic eye. "Your father's, I assume?" he asked, looking up at her. "Still have dreams of becoming a lawyer?" He glanced around, a chuckle slipping from his lips. "People have started in worse places." He fished into his pocket, and pulled out a crisp, folded letter. "I received this at the house several days ago." Alex recognized it immediately, had typed it herself, and gotten it certifiably delivered. "Really, Alexandra, why waste our time? Father and I are very busy. He's running for reelection, and I don't have the time to siphon through frivolous lawsuits."

She rounded by him, keeping the small table between them. "It's not frivolous. I plan on getting everything back from you, and taking immense pleasure in it. You and your father are thieves."

He reeled towards her, his eyes blazing. She tried to keep her fear from sending her backwards, but she was unsuccessful, and he forced her back against the window, its chill sending a shiver through her spine. "You used to be so well behaved for me, Alexandra." A finger ran across her temple, and she jerked away from his touch. "What's changed?"

"You can't control me anymore," she said, her hands pushing against his chest.

He leaned his mouth close to her ear, pinning her, his hands regaining a familiar hold on her arms, one she remembered with a rise of bile in her throat. "I don't have to," he said with a scornful smile. "I already destroyed you years ago." He pulled back, a smile bending his lips, and she pushed him, hard, causing him to stumble backward. She saw a familiar anger cross his eyes, and she curled her hands into fists. She had learned to fight him years ago, too.

* * *

><p>Olivia had clearly overstayed her welcome on the corner, judging by the looks that she was receiving from several of the street girls who clearly wished to reclaim their spot, and she had just taken a step forward, heading back to her parked car, when her eye caught sudden movement in the window above. The same male figure bared menacingly over Alex. She couldn't see his face clearly, but she could see the way he pinned the blonde against the window, and the forceful, desperate way she pushed him away from her. The detective abdicated the corner quickly, leaving it to the hovering girls, but headed not toward the direction of her car. Instead, she picked up her pace, heading directly towards Alex's building, her eyes still on the third floor window.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Trouble with Dames  
><strong>**Chapter 7**

"Get out," Alex said in a thin voice, keeping space between her and her stepbrother as she edged towards the door, adrenaline digging her fingernails into her palms. Robert took a few steps forward, her fists not a deterrent to him, and Alex wished she'd convinced Olivia to let her take the gun from her office. Not that she needed a hole in the wall of her own apartment, but still, it would provide more protection than her hands would.

"Where are your manners, Alexandra? Your mother taught you better than that." Robert's expressions were always too pronounced, and his smile stretched its way across the entirety of his face as he pressed into her, attempting to snake a hand around her neck. She slapped it away, the combination of her exhaustion and his aggression colliding inside her and wringing a frustrated growl from her throat.

"Why are you here, Robert?"

"I was bored." His answer stoked her gag reflex, as it was the same one he used for years when visiting her in her bedroom. She would rather him want something from her, at least that way she would know how to get rid of him. She felt walls close up inside her, and she met his shrug with an evil smile, an expressive consequence of the hatred that only he could bring out of her. Cruelty had always been her best weapon with him; it unnerved him in such a way that she was usually able to regain what little power she had in their relationship.

A laugh bubbled from her throat, which was tightened with a tension that she hoped went unnoticed. "I'll bet you were bored. Do your fellow attorneys shun you, Robert? Is that why you're spending your time here with me?"

"Alexandra - " The creased lines around his mouth held a warning, but she railed over it recklessly.

"I bet they can see right through you, right down to the little boy that will never be as good as his father. How you'd never amount to anything if he hadn't pulled you up by his own coattails." Her words were having an effect. Robert's gray eyes lost the mischievous luster and turned darker as she continued. "Can't hobnob at the cocktail parties or the Stork Club, so the best you can do is roam Skid Row?"

His fist fired quickly into the underside of her gut, sending her slumping into the wall gasping for breath that wouldn't come. He straightened his handkerchief, and ran a tidying hand through his hair before he was on her again, his violence now radiating through his words. "And you fit right in here, don't you?" he asked calmly, though his eyes held an ashy hatred. "Even lower than the whores you live with. At least they know what belongs between their legs." His hand reached for the fabric of her skirt, and she tried to wrench away from him.

A knock, almost foreign-sounding against her door, startled them both into stillness. Her eyes locked with the figure in front of her as she moved slowly from the wall, a hand still pressed against her stomach. Whatever was on the other side of the door was preferable to her stepbrother, and she yanked it open, both her lower lip and her hand dropping towards the floor, as if both guided by an invisible puppet string. Olivia stood in front of her, lips in a straight, confident line, as if her arrival at her assistant's door was merely a commonplace occurrence.

Confusion muddled the blonde's forehead, but was quickly replaced by a dreadfulness that seemed to drip from her eyes as the male figure that Olivia had seen through the window took a step towards them. "I hope I'm not interrupting," the detective said, taking a step inside, unwilling to wait for a formal invitation that she was sure her horrified assistant wouldn't extend. The man appraised her with a snide, but angry look on his face.

Alex's face was flushed, even under the paltry light in the apartment, but she shook her head. "No, you're not interrupting – "

"Actually," he cut in, "I was in the middle of something. I suggest you and my sister reschedule your tryst." The last word flicked off his tongue with the force of a dagger, but Olivia deflected it with an unbothered smile. He looked nothing like Alex, with his hair dark and a complexion complimented by the sun, and she wondered if the two were blood siblings. "Olivia Benson, Private Eye," she said, extending her hand, determined to override this self-important figure in front of her with a confidence of her own.

Alex finally found her voice, and stepped between them, her blouse rumpled a bit at her waist. "Detective, this is my stepbrother, Robert Thorne." The words were low, as if by saying them quietly, she could avoid the surprised look on her boss' face.

"Assistant District Attorney Robert Thorne," he corrected with a terse pull of his cufflinks.

"Son of DA Samuel Thorne?" Olivia clarified with a halting look at Alex. It wasn't exactly a connection she was prepared to learn and she cursed herself internally for not following through with her own research.

"The one and only," he replied. "A detective?" he clarified with a weary grin. "And what brings you to Alexandra's dismal abode?"

"I work with her, Robert," the blonde said, a quiet gleam of satisfaction in her eye as she sensed his trepidation. He disguised his shock with another unneeded touch to the handkerchief that stuck out of his suit pocket.

"Is that so?" he asked. "I do believe she's off the clock by now, no, Detective?" he said as he pulled an ornate, gold pocket watch from his jacket.

Alex's eyes enlarged at the sight of it, and she plummeted forward, reaching for it. "What are you doing with that?" she demanded, her voice striking towards him.

He glanced down at the watch, as if curious at the object that had so stolen her attention. "It's mine," he said simply. Olivia watched the exchange with a careful eye, keeping her attention on Robert, who was quickly becoming an itch under her skin. She didn't like the way his eyes glazed over Alex's skin, as if familiar territory.

"You're a thief," Alex said, her vehemence clear, no longer stifled by her boss' presence. Olivia had yet to see the blonde so clearly not in control of her emotions. "Mother wanted me to have that."

"Oh, Alexandra. If you hadn't disgraced your mother so before her death, maybe you would have been privy to her belongings." Something shifted for Olivia, and she felt the first glimpse behind the stoic curtain that Alex had hidden behind since she hired her. Robert's eyes continued to probe the blonde, as if stoking a fire. "You didn't learn anything, did you?" he asked, taking a step towards her, which caused Olivia to shift her stance and clench her fists. "You brought disgrace to your mother, you desecrated your father's name and our entire family." He darted his stormy eyes over to Olivia, sizing her up with a look of disgust. "Clearly you haven't learned anything, judging by your current company."

Olivia met Alex's gaze for a moment, looking for some sort of clarification, but the blonde looked as if she were being forced over the edge of a plateau. "Robert – " she said, almost desperately.

"You think you deserved this?" he asked, dangling the watch in front of him. "Your father's most cherished possession? After practically spitting on his grave by carrying on with that ungodly woman?"

Olivia blinked, but saw a flash of hatred ignite behind Alex's eyes. "Leave her out of this, Robert. That's not – "

"Not what?" he pushed. "Not natural?"

"Stop it – "

"And was it worth it, hmm?" he asked with a snide, feigned curiosity. "Losing everything? Even after she crawled back to her old life? You couldn't give her what she needed, could you?"

Olivia was attempting to keep up with the information that darted back and forth in front of her like venomous arrows, but her eyes remained locked on Alex, who was shaking with the contempt of a woman who knew she was being dissected and displayed in front of an audience.

"Robert – "

"Turns out she wanted what every other sane woman on this earth wants, and she wasn't going to find it between those perverted thighs of yours, was she?"

Olivia covered the few steps between them in mere seconds, her fist swinging out before she was even cognizant of it, and she felt her knuckles catch Robert's jaw with a crack. She pushed him roughly against the wall, digging her elbow into his stomach, only giving enough leeway to place a hand inside of her suit, allowing him a glimpse of the gun that she carried against her side, happy that she had foreseen to store it there earlier. "I think you've overstayed your welcome," she said, her eyes flashing as she relaxed her grip, letting her hands slip into her own pockets as she stepped away from him, giving him a more than satisfied smile.

He didn't make a move towards her, his eyes on the weapon, but he cupped his jaw, feeling for blood, which collected just at the corner of his mouth. He glanced back at Alex. "You're worth nothing," he hissed at her as he brushed past her. "Your mother thought that, and every court in the state will let her will stand. Remember that." His lips curled into a smile, blood thinly coating one side of his teeth. "Bye, for now, dear sister." He slammed the door behind him, and the sound echoed into the sparse room.

Olivia stood awkwardly, trying to take her cue from Alex, but the blonde stood as if frozen, a look of unbridled vulnerability etching her face. When the woman finally looked over at her, as if being pulled back from a debilitating memory, Olivia felt an ache split her chest, and would have said anything to extinguish that look on her pale face. Instead, she said the first thing that popped into her head.

"Is he always so charming?"

A second of silence knifed between them before Alex's lined forehead relaxed, her shoulders slumping visibly with delayed relief as she exhaled what was between a laugh and a sob. Steadying herself along the back of a chair, she let her head dip into her chest. Olivia stood rooted to the spot, both of them using the moment to steady their own buzzing nerves. Alex peered up at her, questions flickering through her eyes like blue flames, and Olivia realized that she had her own explanations to offer, namely why she had shown up unexpectedly on her assistant's doorstep.

Alex expected embarrassment to flood through her, but it didn't. Instead, the dark eyes that looked over at her with tacit empathy comforted her in a way that she couldn't quite understand. She suspected her boss had quite a few questions of her own after the spectacle that she had just witnessed, but she had no idea where to begin. "Tea?" she offered lamely.

"I think we'll need something a bit stronger than that," Olivia replied warmly, her tone succeeding in pulling a small smile out of her assistant.

"Unfortunately, it's tea or nothing," the blonde replied, with a halting look at her kitchen.

"Tea is fine," Olivia assured her, aware that at some point their dainty conversation would have to cease, and both have to offer up more personal fare.

Alex turned, slowly, her limbs feeling as if they were moving through molasses, but she managed to get the kettle onto the small stove that sat below a gritty window. It looked out over an abandoned alley, and Alex half expected her stepbrother to be standing below, his wolfish eyes staring up at her. She purged the image from her mind with a visible shake, and turned back to the brunette, who had now taken a seat at the small table, the jacket of her suit brushing away from her hip long enough for Alex to catch a glimpse of the gun that nestled against her hip. Her boss' eyes glanced curiously down at the tattered law and philosophy volumes that were scattered across the tables' surface before looking up with an apologetic glint in her eyes.

"I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here," she said, and Alex was secretly grateful that she spoke first. She crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned against the stove, grateful for its warmth against her back. "I don't know why I'm surprised," she replied. "You are a detective. I assume you followed me?"

Olivia had expected the question, and spent the last minute attempting to craft a response that didn't make her sound like a creep. "After that incident in the office earlier, I wanted to make sure Slim didn't have any other big ideas." Not that Slim would have followed anyone, no matter how beautiful, into Rabbit territory, but still, it had been one factor in her decision, if not the only one. "I didn't mean to frighten you," she added, although she was more than certain the blonde could hold her own. Maybe not with a handgun just yet, but she could clearly protect herself.

Alex turned her attention back to the kettle, which signaled its readiness with a piercing whistle. "I wasn't frightened. Of you or of Robert." She poured the steaming water into two mugs and turned back to the table, her face back to its original mask of confidence. "I can handle him." She placed the mugs on the scratched surface, and her face flushed slightly. "I don't have milk or sugar," she said, her embarrassment due more to her own privileged upbringing than to any annoyance on the detective's part.

Olivia put up a placating hand. "It's the middle of the war. No one does." She cleared her throat, reaching into the pocket of her gray trousers and cradled a cool object in her hands before holding it out to the younger woman by its fine, gold chain. "I assume this is rightfully yours?" she asked.

Alex's eyes widened at the sight of the pocket watch that Robert had cruelly flaunted, and reached a clamoring hand out for it. "When did you - ?" she asked, her voice dying in her throat.

Olivia raised her right hand, showcasing a row of bruised knuckles. "I figured if I distracted him, that would give me enough of a chance."

Alex flinched at the sight of the sullied skin. "Let me get you some ice," she offered, turning back to the kitchen. Olivia caught her arm gently, her fingers brushing soft skin. "Why don't we just talk?" she suggested, waiting as the blonde sat on her own accord.

Alex clasped the watch in her hand, staring at it as if it had transported her to another time, its almost imperceptible tick marking the seconds of her silence before she finally spoke. "When I was little, I used to spend every morning in my father's study with him. I'd follow him into his office just after dawn, when everything was still quiet. He'd work at his desk, and I'd pull up a chair and work right in front of him, on some children's book or something. We would stay like that for a couple of hours, just the two of us, and at 8:30 he would always hum the beginning of this silly little song – I think it was called 'I'm Always Chasing Rainbows', - and pretend it was the watch's alarm. He would always look down at it, and study it hard, shake it, and then look at me and say, 'I do believe this blasted thing is fast.' And we'd sit for another ten minutes. It was our own little ritual." Her face lit up with an innocence that shone through her, but just as quickly the light disappeared, and she seemed to hurtle back into the present with a tightening of her face.

Olivia smiled sadly at the memory, but it only prompted the question that had plagued her mind since she first followed her assistant to the dilapidated neighborhood. "Alex, why are you living here?"

The question was genuine and its very simplicity ballooned Alex's chest as she took a deep breath. The detective had given her chance after chance, and although Alex knew she had more than earned it when it came to her work ethic, she knew Olivia was looking for honesty. "Less than a year after my father died," she began, her voice growing steadier as she continued, "my mother remarried Sam Thorne. She said it was her best way to 'preserve our way of life'. 'Money runs out,' she said." Alex glanced bitterly around her flat. "She was wrong. Money doesn't run out, it just changes hands."

"How old were you when your father died?" Olivia asked.

"Twelve. I was thirteen when my mother remarried and Sam and Robert moved in. Sam wasted no time in trying to fill my father's shoes, in every sense of the word. He became District Attorney, and Robert was groomed from the start to follow in his footsteps."

"Did you and Robert ever get along?" Olivia asked, noticing the tick in Alex's shoulders as she mentioned his name, the way she gripped her mug even tighter.

Alex felt a familiar anger coiling through her, and worked to keep it from springing forth too candidly. Robert had hated her from the start, and had eventually found a way to make her hate herself as well, but that was a secret that she planned on sharing with no one. "We both went to college," she said, aware that it wasn't necessarily a direct answer. "I got in on the strength of merit, he got in because of his father's clout. Same with law school." She took a sip of her tea, steadying herself as she launched into the rest of her story, the real reason the detective had found her living in near squalor far from where the brownstones and pedigree where she grew up. "My mother became sick about a year ago, when I was in law school." Olivia noticed the way the blonde darted a glance at her, as if testing whether she should continue. "My family found out about a relationship that I was taking great pains to hide."

"With a woman?" Olivia studied her, hoping her expression conveyed camaraderie rather than judgment, which, judging by Robert's vicious comment, was the reaction the blonde had received most. The blue eyes peered up from the bottom of her mug, and Olivia felt a rippling in her stomach, stirring something that she hadn't felt since first meeting Nan.

"Yes," Alex answered. A forlorn smile briefly crossed her lips before her stoic expression found its rightful place again. "Sam had my mother change her will after it all came to light. He and Robert insisted that my mother wanted it that way, that I had brought shame on the entire family. They got everything when she died: jewelry, money, the house. Most of it I could care less about, but some things, like this..." She shivered, fingering the watch, and her voice caught. "I don't believe it, though. The will. My mother wasn't right in her mind towards the end. I'm contesting it on my own, but I never finished school. And Sam has judges in his favor all over the county." She looked up and sighed. "So, that brings me here. It's not so bad."

Once again, Olivia seemed at a loss for words, and this time, there was nothing that popped into her head except for sympathy. "Alex - " she began.

The blonde raised her head with a strained smile. "It's not a walk in the park. But, se la vie," she said wistfully. "Se la vie."

The noise from the streets juxtaposed with the quiet of the apartment as Alex studied Olivia, attempting to determine, what, if any, effect her most recent revelations had on her relationship with her new boss. Olivia felt the blue eyes on her, but she felt as if her own voice was trapped in her throat. Again, she let her gut guide her. "Alex, there's nothing wrong about falling in love with a woman."

"You've fallen in love with your share of women, I suppose?" Olivia saw the subtle recognition in her face, which she realized had been there all along. It wasn't as if she went out of her way to hide who she was – but she didn't go to great lengths to explain herself, either.

"I've had my share," she replied, her face flushing.

Her discomfort seemed to bring a smile to Alex's face, the blue eyes lighting up with familiarity for the first time since they sat down. "I'll bet you have."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

This time it was Alex's turn to blush, the color finally returning to her pale cheeks. "I – I'm sure you have no trouble finding women. That's all."

"They don't exactly throw themselves at me on the street, Alex." She studied the blonde, the dullness in her eyes that came along with a first heartbreak. "The woman you mentioned – was she the only woman you've… been with?"

"That's a bit personal, Detective."

"I thought that's what we were doing here? Getting personal."

Alex stood, pouring more water into her mug. "I don't think you've been holding up your end of the bargain." She leaned against the stove and stared down at the detective, regaining the familiar self-assuredness that she so often wore at the office. "What about you? Have any torrid tales of family that you can offer? A wayward stepmother, perhaps?" Olivia's eyes darkened for a moment, and Alex caught the hesitation, moving gently back to her seat. "What were your parents like?" she asked quietly, realizing she had unintentionally unearthed something unpleasant.

Olivia tried to keep her voice light, but it betrayed her with a thickness she almost didn't recognize. "I never knew my father," she said, a shame burning her throat. Alex looked over at her, and Olivia was encouraged by the lack of pity in her eyes.

"He left when you were young?"

Olivia stared into her mug, at the dark liquid that steamed up from its cavern, and she shook her head. "My mother never knew him, either," she whispered. "He followed her home from work one day. She never could recall much about him, except that he had dark eyes."

Alex stilled, as if any movement would disturb the brunette's sudden openness. "Did your mother raise you?" she asked.

"As much as she could." She had spent most of her life giving her mother credit just for going through with the pregnancy, although in the end she realized her mother hadn't exactly had the resources to make much of a choice. Although Elliot's mother had fed her, and clothed her from old hand me downs, Olivia had never held a grudge against her mother. If anything, she held that blame strictly for herself. She peered over at the blonde, not exactly sure why she was spilling such information within a week of meeting her, when it had taken her over six months to share her past with Nan. Still, the blue eyes seemed to pull the words out of her, making it okay for her to continue. "She ended up a drunk. Died about eight years ago, from heart troubles. But I think it was the prohibition that did it. She couldn't handle it." She let out a sardonic chuckle, its sound muffled by the mug as she placed it to her lips. "Torrid enough?" she asked, attempting to lighten her tone, signaling the end of her confessional and hoping the blonde got the message.

"I'd say it's a draw," Alex replied, not pushing any further. Olivia leaned over, and took Alex's hand in her own, turning her palm upwards to reveal the watch that she cradled. "You deserve this," she said softly, letting the pad of her thumb rub softly against the inside of Alex's wrist. "You won't always find justice through the system. Don't let them take what's rightfully yours."

Alex let her eyes close for a moment, enjoying the detective's touch, a gentleness that she hadn't felt in months. Just as quickly, however, she opened them, her arm tensing as she remembered that this particular touch was coming from the woman who had hired her a little more than a week ago. Olivia felt the change, and it seemed to course through her as well as she pulled back, returning both hands back to her mug. "I'd better be going," she said, for a moment wishing the blonde would ask her to stay. Something about the way her stepbrother had looked at her earlier seemed too possessive, and she wasn't sure she wanted to leave. She would case a lap around the building, just to make sure he wasn't lurking around. Alex seemed to read her thoughts.

"Robert won't be back. Not tonight. His pride has been sufficiently wounded."

"I think you can handle yourself." Olivia stood, hitching her trousers higher onto her waist as she made her way towards the door.

Alex stepped towards her, peering at her with something more than curiosity, as if she were reinforcing a connection between the two of them. "Detective, thank you," she said, placing a grateful hand on her arm before letting it travel upwards to straighten the edge of her lapel. Olivia felt a current buzz through her arm, but managed to keep her features composed. "I think it's time you start calling me Olivia."

"Such a pretty name," Alex said with a wistful nod. "It fits you." She leaned forward, angling her jaw upwards and bestowing a chaste kiss on the detective's cheek. "You smell like scotch," she said with a grin as she pulled back, both of them fully aware of the way the blonde had utilized her drink back at Cragen's.

"I had a run-in with an irate woman."

"I hope she forgives you."

"I think she just did." Olivia gave her a quick smile as she opened the door. "If you need to take the day off tomorrow," she began, but Alex cut her off with a shove through the threshold.

"Not a chance, Detective. See you tomorrow morning." With one last smile, she closed the door, leaning against it for a moment. Outside, the detective did the same.


	8. Chapter 8

**Trouble with Dames**  
><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Alex and Olivia spent the next few days in the office as if they were old colleagues, each preempting a request here, a preference there, and falling into an ease that neither had experienced before, nor expected to come so quickly. Olivia spent her evenings trailing Nicky Burns, and Alex became accustomed to seeing her boss sleeping fitfully on the tattered couch in her office, timing her trip to Lou's coffee shop to coincide with the detective's late-morning awakenings.

"You're really setting a precedent here," Olivia said as she stumbled out of her office and headed towards one of the two steaming cups of coffee that sat on Alex's desk. The detective had managed to change into a set of trousers, shirt, and tailored vest, but her hair was still stubbornly mussed.

"You look like you could use it," Alex said, lifting her eyes from the document she was studying. "Found anything useful on Nicky?"

She hadn't, but Olivia didn't feel like going into it before she had at least enjoyed some semblance of peace with her morning coffee. "Don't want to talk about it," she muttered, but didn't bother moving away from the desk, instead taking some small pleasure in watching the blonde work.

Feeling her boss's eyes on her, Alex peered back up with a questioning glance. "Detective?"

Neither of them had mentioned the undercover operation at Jack Spade's hotel, Olivia knew the question was looming over her, and although she felt as if just the mere acknowledgment of the event would put the blonde in danger, she knew she had to discuss it at some point. It might as well be when she was completely exhausted and feeling a little generous. "Saturday…" she began, peering down at her assistant, whose eyes held a new hopefulness behind her glasses.

"Saturday," Alex echoed.

"I've been thinking about Saturday," Olivia continued, drawing out her thoughts.

"I'm sure you have."

"I don't like it."

"I'm sure you don't."

"But I know you can handle yourself."

"I'm sure I can."

"And against my better judgment, I'm thinking it may be worth it to let you do this."

"I'm sure it will." Alex grinned, clearly satisfied with her victory as she turned her attention contentedly back towards her work, a smugness held in her thin shoulders.

Olivia nodded, glancing around for a moment, not convinced the conversation was over. "We're going to talk about this. I'm not letting you go in there blind." She took a sip of her coffee. "And I'm not leaving you there alone. I'll be staking out the hotel. We need to have a game plan."

"Of course," Alex replied, plucking another file from a desk drawer. "I already have notes, the layout of the hotel, and an itinerary. Let me know when you're ready to discuss it."

Olivia feigned a sigh, unsurprised that her assistant had already preempted her decision. She set her coffee back down on the desk and took a seat in the chair in front of Alex's desk, turning her full focus onto the woman in front of her. "What have you got?" she asked, secretly pleased with the way her the blonde's blue eyes lit up at her interest.

Alex displayed the contents of the folder, pushing a floor plan of the hotel towards her boss. "I've already memorized it, but maybe you want to look at it, just to be prepared."

"Where did you get this?" Olivia asked.

"At lunch yesterday. I paid a visit to the concierge, who was very willing to help."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "I bet he was."

Defensiveness pulsed through the blue gaze that flashed up at her. "I paid him cash," Alex said, offended by the implicit assumption in the detective's tone. "Anyway," she continued, pointing a painted nail at the page. "I just wanted to be prepared in case anything should go wrong. Chances are if I'm going to hear anything about prostitution or guns, it won't be in the middle of a crowded room." Olivia followed her finger across the page, which trailed along what seemed to be the side of the hotel. "Back exits are along here, along with the kitchen and laundry room. There's a formal meeting room near the ballroom, but I'd bet my next paycheck they go somewhere along this side if they wanted to discuss any illegal business."

Olivia raised an impressed brow. "I'd bet your next paycheck on that, too. Hotel rooms could be bugged – Spade's way too experienced and way too paranoid to chance it."

"Right." The blonde had already turned her attention to a second document, which appeared to be a typed itinerary. "The less time I put in, the better, I see it. That means there will be fewer people who remember me. Our goal should be to get in, get information, and get out."

"Alex –" Her assistant's enterprise was welcome, but Olivia had a few insights of her own to share, especially since she'd been the one doing this type of work for a number of years.

"I want to arrive a little after 8:00, so as not to appear too eager. Chances are Spade won't even remember he invited me, as flirtatious as he is."

"Alex –"

"You can pick me up at 8:00."

"Alex –" The new order cut off her thoughts and she raised her eyebrows. "Pick you up?" she repeated.

"Of course. I don't have a car, and I prefer not to take a cab. And I thought you wanted to stake out the hotel anyway?"

"I do." Olivia grinned. "It's a date." A mild hesitation fluttered through the younger woman's eyes, but she continued her questioning, although her voice was quieter.

"Do you think I'll see Nicky Burns at this party?"

Olivia pursed her lips. "It would be awfully bold for him to be there. I've followed him for the past two nights, and haven't seen him meet up with Spade. Yet. Although I have seen him meet up with a girl or two in Skid Row."

"I don't understand. He's just getting his rocks off? Why would Johnny Mack be upset about that?"

"I don't think that's what he's up to. I think he may be the one with the Russian connection, and he knew he could get more out of it with Spade and his prostitution ring, so he struck up a partnership. But that's just a hunch. I've got no proof."

"Since when does Burns have international connections?"

"Burns has been Mack's right-hand man for years, long enough to shore up his own connections. Probably a matter of time before he wanted to exercise his own will outside of the shadow of his boss."

"Doesn't seem smart to me."

"That's why you're not a mobster."

"Not much of a detective, either, it seems." Alex looked up from her folder. "I tried to ask some of the girls around my flat about the murders. I got nothing. They won't say a word to me." Her eyes widened. "Do you think they won't talk because they know Nicky Burns had something to do with it?"

Olivia shook her head. She was more than certain the girls wouldn't talk to her out of jealousy, but she wasn't about to articulate that thought. "I don't know, but it doesn't seem to fit. The girls were strangled, found with jewelry. It screams of something more sinister than a simple mob killing."

Alex shuddered. "Where did the jewelry come from? Doesn't seem likely that any of the girls would own it, and where would a killer get his hands on it?"

Olivia shrugged. "Alex, you're asking all the right questions, but unfortunately I don't have any answers."

"Well, maybe Spade can lead us to some of them."

It was easy for Olivia to get lost in Alex's confidence. Or maybe it was just the blue eyes and the strong, set jaw, which always seemed ready for a challenge. Ever since the night in Alex's apartment, the detective hadn't been able to get that look out of her head, not after she'd seen just a glimpse of the vulnerability that lay behind it.

The ring of the telephone startled her out of her thoughts. Alex pressed the receiver against her ear, her greeting barely out of her mouth before her face twisted with anger, its paleness masked over in a heated flush. "It's Mr. Slim for you," she spat, covering the mouth piece with her hand.

Olivia said nothing, but instead headed intently to her office door and slammed it shut, her own anger rising in tandem with her heavy steps towards her desk. She had a few choice words for Slim after his stunt in the office. She picked up the receiver, not waiting for Alex's click to indicate she had left the line, but instead began her rail. "Listen, you slimy piece of snail shit. The next time you harass my assistant, I'm going to nail that hefty gut of yours to a brick wall, you got me?"

"Jeez, Benson, cool it. I was just being friendly. Besides, your little moll can hold her own, you don't have to worry about that. I'd take her to a shooting range, though."

"Fuck you." She paced as far as the phone cord would allow, the five feet or so not nearly giving her enough space to exercise her anger.

"As a peaceful amend, I'm offering you some information."

"I don't need your help," she said spitefully, fully aware that she did, which only added to the vindictiveness of her next words. "Go fuck yourself, Slim."

"Shut up, Benson, and take the goddamned information. Nicky's got a personal connection I think you need to know about."

It was a theory she had honed over the past few nights following the guy, and she knew she could probably use whatever intelligence Slim could give her. Still, she wanted to maintain an upper hand. "And why should I believe anything you tell me?" Silence greeted her, which confirmed the suspicion she had been nursing. "You're trying to boost Nicky out of the way, aren't you, Slim? Think if you can get him out of your way, that you're right in line for top dog, don't you?"

"I'm not saying anything else, other than Nicky's got a Russian friend visiting this week. A guy that you probably want to learn more about."

Olivia paused, darting a glance back at her closed door. Whoever this Russian was, he would more than likely be hobnobbing with Spade on Saturday night, and Alex had a good chance of crossing paths with him. "I'm on it," she said into the phone, her curiosity sufficiently piqued.

Alex didn't bother listening in on the line. She wanted nothing more to do with Slim. Instead she turned her attention back to her notes, for the hundredth time rehearsing her fake persona and background in her head. It would do no good to be in the same room with Jack Spade and completely slip up on the name that she had given him at the restaurant.

A knock sounded quietly at the door, and a tall, muscular man walked in, his decorated police uniform stiff around his shoulders. Alex immediately recognized his narrow, concentrated blue eyes from the murder scene on her street.

"Detective Stabler," she said, surprised to see him, even though she knew of his and Olivia's connection. He extended his hand to her and nodded. "Ms. Cabot, I'm sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances last time. I'm Elliot Stabler, NYPD."

Alex accepted his hand. "It's nice to see you again. Hopefully under better circumstances."

He looked doubtful, and cast a glance at the detective's closed door. "She in there?"

"She's on a call, but should be off in just a second." She studied him, his hard expression, his stony eyes. "You and Detective Benson are old friends?" she asked, curious about the man in front of her and his relationship with her boss.

He settled into the chair in front of her desk. "We are. Grew up together, in fact. Liv was like a sister." His eyes warmed as he spoke about her, which immediately set Alex at ease. "I think she wore more of my old hand-me-downs than my own brother did." He chuckled. "Are you from New York City, Ms. Cabot?"

His eyes bored into her, not accusingly, but Alex could tell he already knew the answer to his own question. In fact, he'd probably been the one to tip Olivia off about her past. "I think you already know the answer to that," she replied. "But, yes, I am."

Elliot nodded slowly, clasping his hands somewhat nervously in his lap. "From what I've heard, your father was the best District Attorney this city has seen," he said.

He looked uncomfortable, as if he had overstepped his bounds, and Alex quickly spoke, her tone warm, betraying more than the simplicity of her words. "Thank you," she managed, clearing her throat. "Do you work often with the current DA, Sam Thorne?"

Elliot shook his head with a relieved sigh, clearly not briefed on that part of Alex's background. "Thankfully, no. He works from on high, which means I don't have to deal with him. Never even met the guy."

Alex nodded, not yet willing to share her personal connection to the District Attorney. "Are you making any progress on the murder investigation?" she asked, changing the subject.

"That's what I'm here to talk with Benson about," he replied, somewhat evasively. He glanced towards the door. "She doing all right lately? Not sleeping, the usual?" he asked with a grin.

Before Alex could respond, the detective's voice blared through the doorway. "Next time I see you I'll make sure to shove my hand so far up your gut I'll trim a few inches off your waist!" The clank of the phone as it slammed into its cradle jarred the two spectators, and a moment later Olivia's flushed face appeared in her doorway. Her eyes widened at the sight of a visitor, but then softened playfully as she recognized the buzzed cut police officer.

"You talk to all your clients that way?" Elliot asked with a smirk.

"How else would I keep myself in business?" she replied. "Come on in." Elliot stood, tipping his head toward the blonde as Olivia nodded him into her office, pausing to look back at Alex. "You scared the living daylights out of Slim, by the way," she said with a collusive grin before following Elliot through the threshold, not looking back for the satisfaction that she was sure flickered across her assistant's face.

"You've got quite an enterprising assistant there," Elliot said, taking a seat on her couch and stretching his long legs in front of him.

Olivia stepped over them, flopping onto the opposite end and settling her own legs over his lap. "Yeah, no kidding. I half expected her to follow you in here with her pen and notepad."

Elliot chuckled, but his eyes were serious. "You look like shit," he said. "Work keeping you busy?"

"You know it. Mostly, I've just been tailing Burns. He's pretty clean during the day." Elliot scoffed, and she changed her tune. "Well, clean enough. At night, though, he's been hanging around Rabbit dives, but I haven't been able to link him to Jack Spade yet. What I don't understand is why he would risk everything with Mack just to get in on some new deal with a gang that will likely end up screwing him. Something just doesn't add up about it." Olivia shrugged. "What about the murders? Any suspects?"

"I got nothing. There are no prints on the jewelry, and I got no reports matching up to any stolen property. Everyone in the district is tight-lipped, which leads me to think it was mob related."

"Mob doesn't do jobs like that, Elliot."

"You seem to know a lot about the mob these days," he replied, only half-kidding. He sighed. "All of a sudden, the Chief's turned a corner. He says if I don't get answers soon, we're closing it out."

Olivia looked up at him, her eyes incredulous. "How can you just close out what could be a serial?"

Elliot hung his head. "I didn't say that I was going to close it out." He gave her a pointed look. "My sarge tells me the DA came down hard on shutting this case down once he realized we were fishing around in Rabbit territory. I've got enough here to pique my interest, and the fact that the rest of the blue wants to suddenly brush it under a rug ain't sitting too pretty with me."

"If I get you something on Jack Spade, you think that would be enough to put their eyes back on your district?"

"You'd have to get me some pretty infallible evidence, Liv."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like his hand in a fucking gold-plated, illegal cookie jar. Barring that, I'll just have to do what I can. But I can't make any promises."

Olivia didn't meet his eye right away, letting her head dip resignedly onto the arm of the couch. She knew her avoidance stung, but lately she'd tired of being the odd woman out.

* * *

><p>A day later, Olivia was still just as exhausted, but a flow of nerves ran through her, energizing her like a live current. Although it was a Saturday, she had spent most of her time at the office, mostly running over fallible theories in her head, only motivating herself back to her own apartment after dusk, searching around for the fancy suit she rarely ever wore.<p>

She trailed up the stairs towards Alex's third floor apartment, adjusting the collar of her starched shirt, trying not to breathe in the dank smell that seemed to permeate the walls. As she rounded the stairs to the second floor, a commotion sounded from one of the doors just down the hallway.

"And stay out, you flaccid creep!"

Olivia was practically bowled over by a man who was just barely back in his clothes, still pulling a shirt onto his shoulders. He scowled at her before pummeling down the stairs, his footsteps sloppy against the wood. Not wanting to commit herself to a full on intervention, Olivia glanced down the hallway and made eye contact with the irate woman. She sighed, recognizing the diminutive figure immediately. She couldn't ignore her now.

"Hi Mattie," she said as she ambled slowly down the hallway. The woman's famliar figure was stick-like underneath a sheer gown, her nipples protruding from the thin material, probably more so out of adrenaline than anything else.

"Well, well, well," the woman replied, her doeish brown eyes floating up to Olivia's as she bared a toothy grin. "Detective Benson. What brings you here?" She let a finger travel over the shoulder of the brunette's coat as Olivia came to stand in front of her. "Got an itch you need to scratch?" she asked devilishly. At Olivia's stare, she pulled back her hand and put her fingers to her lips.

"I'm working a case," Olivia replied, noncommittally.

"Such a workaholic," Mattie said. "You and Nan." She leaned against her doorway. "I haven't seen you over at Birdie's." She raised an eyebrow. "Too good for the rest of us now?"

Olivia ignored the question. "Know anything about the girls that were killed, Mattie?"

The small eyes didn't flinch, and Olivia was certain that Mattie had seen enough in her lifetime not to be bothered by a couple of bodies. As long as they didn't have anything to do with her. "Why don't you come inside for a minute?" she asked, gesturing towards her open door. "I'll make you some coffee."

Olivia shook her head. "I can't. I'm on my way to meet someone."

"Who are you meeting here?" Mattie asked curiously. She cocked her head. "You meeting that new girl upstairs?" She pointed with her finger, and Olivia realized Alex's flat was directly above hers. "It's always so quiet. I don't know how that girl makes her money. I think she has an arrangement with Lou. I got away with a few months rent with him, but it was hardly worth it."

Olivia shook her head. "She doesn't have an arrangement with anybody." She certainly didn't want to blow any cover that Alex may have around her own neighborhood, so she lied instead. "I'm using her as a decoy in an operation." It was somewhat true, even if the whole idea had been Alex's.

"Are you looking for who's behind those murders?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't care. I play it safe."

"Are you saying the dead girls didn't?"

"I'm not saying anything about those girls."

Olivia put a hand against the wall, leaning into Mattie and pressing her gently against the door jam. "Mattie," she whispered, staring intently at her. "Whatever you tell me is strictly between us, you know that."

She felt the younger woman shift beneath her, the familiar sign that her words were having an effect. "I don't pay attention to the other girls," she said.

Olivia didn't buy that for one second. "Of course you do. You want to know who their doing and if it's someone wealthier than your own john."

"I didn't see her with anybody."

"Have you noticed anyone suspicious?" She glanced around the hallway. "More suspicious than usual, I mean?"

"There is a clean cut new guy that I've noticed around. Dark hair, grayish eyes, like a wolf. Bet he's like one in the sack," she said with a lippy grin.

Olivia scowled at the description. Robert. So he was following Alex. She'd deal with him later. "Anyone else?"

"Nicky Burns has been around here."

"Has he been with you?"

Mattie shook her head. "No. But a couple of the girls he's been with have disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

Mattie shrugged. "I don't think they're dead or anything. Their services, if you will, are being utilized elsewhere."

"They go willingly?"

"Look around you, Detective. Think anyone would really want to stay here?" She shook her head. "That's all I know. Now, if you don't want to come in, I got places to be and people to do."

Olivia certainly couldn't argue with that, and after a wink at the diminutive brunette, she continued winding her way to Alex's third floor apartment. She knocked on the door, putting a self-conscious hand to her collar. Despite the chill in the drafty hallway, she felt hot. The door popped open, and Alex stood just inside the threshold in a sleek dress the color of eggplant, the front sloping up over her breasts and around her neck.

"Let me just grab my things," she said with a welcoming smile, and as she turned, Olivia couldn't help but exhale slowly as she caught sight of her assistant's exposed back, the silk gathering at her waist and sliding lazily against her thin frame as she gathered a matching wrap and a small black clutch. Olivia shut the door behind her, unable to remove her gaze from the woman in front of her. The blonde seemed oblivious to the effect her evening attire was having on the detective, but a smile played upon her lips as she finally settled her gaze on her boss, clearly appreciative of the suit she wore. "My, Detective, don't you look like ever the gentleman?"

Olivia shrugged, only buying time for her to find her voice. "I might as well dress to impress, even if it's just the dashboard of my car I'll be staring at all night."

"What makes you think I won't make you take me out after this is over?" Alex said, with a playful raise of her eyebrow. "If this goes well, we absolutely must celebrate. We look to good not to."

Olivia couldn't help but let her eyes roam over the blonde's dress once more. "I thought you said we didn't want to attract any attention?"

Alex laughed lightly at her. "Is that your way of complimenting me on my dress?" She gave a slight twirl. "I didn't think I'd ever have a reason to wear it again. Not around here, at least." Her words may have been tinged with sadness, but her eyes were happy as they floated towards Olivia's. She breezed over to the kitchen towards a small vase of flowers, practically the only color in the drab room, and snipped the end of a yellow carnation. "This fits you much better," she said, plucking the handkerchief from Olivia's pocket and settling the flower in its place with a satisfied smile.

Olivia studied the blue eyes for any sign of anxiousness, but found none. The woman had a way of steeling herself against danger, and Olivia found herself both comforted and confused by it. "Are you nervous?" she asked quietly, wanting to offer some semblance of support, although it didn't seem that the blonde needed it.

Alex smiled. "Of course," she answered. "But, despite my current surroundings, Detective, don't forget that I do know how to work a room." She gave one last twirl, to which Olivia couldn't help but acknowledge with an appreciative smile.

* * *

><p>Alex retraced her steps from earlier that week, wishing for a brief moment that Olivia was beside her, but she shoved the irksome thought away. She hadn't needed anyone by her side in quite awhile, and she wasn't planning on being vulnerable again anytime soon. She nodded curtly at the doorman that waved her inside, feeling a wave of her past life rise up to meet her as she stepped inside the lustrous, marble lobby. The hotel was even more bustling than during her lunch, and she took a moment to compare herself to the other women in the lobby. They were dressed in mostly evening attire, and she was happy to see that although her own gown was a few years old, she still fit right into the moneyed crowd.<p>

Slowly, she made her way toward the ballroom, taking her time, not so much as to enjoy the walk, but to take a few deep, calming breaths, leaving the quirks of Alex Cabot behind and stepping into her new persona, Ms. Grace Stewart.

No sooner had she landed a glass of champagne than she felt a hand on her back and turned immediately, facing the very man that she hadn't expected to see so soon. Jack Spade stood smiling at her, the same charming expression that had lit his face up during their lunch. Another man stood next to him, a grim expression on his face. He was bald, with a pointed beard dripping down his chin, which gave him a terse, intense look, only furthered by his concentrated eyes.

"Grace, I'd like you to meet Mr. Klaus Sorge, a business associate of mine."

Alex graciously reached out a hand towards the Russian's own, and the shorter man lifted it to his lips. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Stewart," he said, his accent rough, but not indecipherable.

"My pleasure," she replied, allowing her eyes to absorb a full description of him, so much so that she could repeat it to her boss later.

His eyes ran the length of her, but otherwise he was cordial. "You have quite a country. I always enjoy myself immensely when I come," he said. Spade chuckled at the comment, as if the two of them were sharing a private joke, but Alex kept a demure smile pasted squarely across her face.

"The city has quite a few attractions to enjoy," Alex replied.

"I'll be taking Klaus on a little tour tomorrow," Spade said. "To some areas that could use some investment."

Alex knew he was more than likely talking about her own neighborhood, and that the least Klaus would be doing would be investing in it, but she nodded nonetheless, hoping that her attention to the two of them didn't seem overdone. She wanted to earn her keep around the two of them for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>Olivia climbed out of her car, using the moment to stretch her legs. She had parked far enough away from the hotel so as not to cause suspicion, but still close enough to keep her eye on the revolving door underneath the lit sign. She suppressed a yawn, leaning against the car and cursing herself for not bringing along a pack of cigarettes. They were her saving grace during a stakeout.<p>

Across the street, she caught a glimpse of a car pulling up to the curb across the street from the hotel, which wasn't unusual, but her attention piqued as she saw Nicky Burns climb out of it. He headed across the street, but rather than head towards the front door of the hotel, he instead floated around the side, towards the side entrance that Alex had pointed out on her floor plan. Not for the first time, the detective was thankful for her assistant's thoroughness, and she wandered after him with a curious gait.

* * *

><p>Alex stepped inside the bathroom, taking a relaxing breath against the door. So far, everything was going fine, and she was even enjoying herself. Or rather, Grace was enjoying herself, having downed her first glass of champagne and slowly nursing the second, which she sat down on the counter in front of her. Still, that didn't mean she was learning anything remotely helpful. She was pragmatic enough to know that finding out something at such a party would be a long shot, but she didn't want to return to Olivia's car empty-handed, not after being served such an opportunity on a platter.<p>

She pulled her compact out of her clutch and gazed into the mirror, studying her complexion, which looked rosy under the over-flattering light. The door opened and a young woman walked in, her round head and brown eyes somewhat familiar. Alex's eyes widened as she recognized the woman from her own building.

"Well, well," the woman said, waltzing over and sizing Alex up with a cursory gaze. "I should've known you'd be here."

Alex's heart thumped louder in her chest and she swallowed. "Why is that?" she asked, playing dumb and hoping it would at least get her out of the bathroom and to the safety of Olivia's car before her cover was completely blown. Maybe she could convince the woman not to rat her out. After all, she did have a little cash left over from her first paycheck.

"I see you around the neighborhood," the girl replied. "You must only do in-service, which means you would be in Nicky's good graces."

Alex disliked being mistaken for a prostitute, but as she was already trying on so many identities as of late, she decided to see where this particular characterization would take her. "Nicky invited you?" she asked.

The woman shot her an unpleasant look. "Yeah, sweets. Blonde's ain't the only ones who know how to have fun. Besides, the Soviets like a nice, behaved brunette, you just wait and see."

"They are charming." She was flying blind, and she hoped the younger woman didn't notice.

An eye roll. "It's worth it once you're there, then you can get rid of them and only focus on the American boys." She waited expectantly, then huffed impatiently at Alex's clear confusion. "We work for the Soviets, but we sleep with American men. Then just report back.

"Report back?" Alex couldn't mask her perplixity.

"Jeez, you're living up to your roots here, sweets. Yeah, report back. Best spy work we can do. And the easiest. Men spill the secrets to those who they think are below them. Little do they know, we can make a living out of it." She slid lipstick over her pouty lips.

"You're selling American intelligence?"

"_We'r_e selling American intelligence, if we're both lucky. Can't be too intelligent if they give it up because of a boner." She flipped her shoulder at Alex. "What, you getting cold feet? You think this country is gonna take care of you? Wake up, sweetie. Loyalty is sold to the highest bidder, and tonight, that just happens to be the Soviets." She winked, and turned back towards the door, sashaying once again back out into the crowded ballroom, and leaving Alex behind, staring after her with a puzzled, newly powdered expression.

* * *

><p>Olivia tailed Nicky slowly, a pace that she had perfected over the past few nights, her attention only being roused as she caught him stopping next to a sleek, black car that was pulled just inside the alleyway next to the hotel. She couldn't glimpse the occupant of the vehicle, but Nicky nonetheless climbed into the backseat. She hung back, watching and waiting, hoping at some point to get a clear picture of whoever it was that the man was so secretively meeting.<p>

* * *

><p>Alex stopped along a niche in the corridor, the cool air from a doorway chilling her back as she attempted to steady her nerves. At least she knew where she was, thanks to her own careful studying of the floor plan she'd managed to find. She had kept her eye on Spade and Klaus, even as she had rambled aimlessly with other patrons, only excusing herself as she saw them exit the ballroom, following them discreetly down the side hallway that she had pointed out to Olivia a few days earlier. She thought she would take some satisfaction in her prediction being correct, but instead her heart beat faster as she steeled herself against the wall. She stood, listening at the voices at the end of the hallway, straining to hear over the tumbling of the laundry machines nearby.<p>

"I guarantee you, Mr. Klaus, you'll be more than happy with the selection Nicky has come up with to seal the deal."

"I am already happy with what he has come up with."

"And I'm sure I'll be happy with my end of the deal as well."

"Yes. We expect shipment here Tuesday after next. You will not be disappointed."

"These are the customs codes you'll need upon entering the harbor. Everything should be in order with the guys at the docks and you should have no problem. I'll have my guys there personally."

Alex heard their voices clearly, but their bodies were hidden around the side of the corridor, and she leaned forward minutely, just to get a glimpse of them. Beside her, however, she heard the jarring of the door, and she jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. She gaped around, quickly scurrying behind a couple of laundry bins piled high with linens, and ducked, hoping that the pounding of her pulse wouldn't out her to the two men only a few yards away.

"It's Burns," a voice called from outside the door, and footsteps sounded against the tile floor. Seconds later, the door opened, bringing with it a burst of cool air.

"Nicky. You clean?"

"Yeah."

"You talk to him?"

"We're golden."

"No more fucking mishaps?"

"Not on my watch, boss."

The voices continued above her as Alex leaned back against the wall, her legs starting to cramp in her heels. She had enough information to please both the cops and her boss. The question is, would she make it out in order to give it to them?

* * *

><p>Olivia stepped around the corner as Nicky exited the car, which peeled away quickly, leaving the man alone in the alley. He loped towards a back door, and Olivia moved discreetly behind him, masking her figure behind a line of delivery vans. She watched as he entered a back door, and she let out an audible sigh. She didn't expect him to leave with anyone, and he may not even leave from the same door again, but she didn't have much else to do besides wait. Wherever he was headed, she hoped Alex would find her way to him. Chances are that wherever Nicky went, trouble was sure to follow. She waited a few moments, then through caution to the wind, heading closer towards the door.<p>

* * *

><p>"Gentlemen, why don't we head back to the party? Nicky, head up to this room. There you'll find your girls waiting, and you can give them the rundown."<p>

Alex held her breath as the footsteps walked away, fading as they made their way down the hallway. She inhaled a gulp of air and stood slowly to her feet, the cold air from the doorway suddenly calling her name. She threw open the door, her hand against her chest as the cool air rushed towards her. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm, and she used most of the adrenaline in her body to let out a quick scream, but a cold hand quickly covered her mouth.

"Alex, it's me."

Her cries didn't die out immediately, not until she registered the warm brown eyes in front of her. Then her anger took over. She pushed Olivia's hands away from her, wrenching herself from her grip. "What are you doing out here?" she hissed.

"What are you doing out here?" Olivia asked, quizzically. "Nicky Burns just went through this door. Did something go wrong?"

"Nothing went wrong," Alex replied quickly, her eyes still angry. "I've got everything under control. Aren't you supposed to be waiting in the car?"

"I got antsy."

"Well, go be antsy someplace else. You're going to ruin my cover."

Olivia smirked at her. "Your cover? I think your cover is that you're a beautiful blonde." She knew instantly that her remark hadn't gone over well, and she tried to backtrack, but Alex spoke over her.

"I need to go back in. Meet me at the car in fifteen minutes."

"Why do you need to go back in?" Olivia gawked, gesturing towards the safety of the street. "Let's just go. If you've got the information you need, we're done here."

"I want to thank him for a lovely evening."

Olivia stared at her through narrowed eyes. "Are you kidding me?"

Alex shook her head, stubbornly. "No, I'm not. I'm a dilettante, remember? Manners above all." She turned back towards the door, pulling it open, but with no success. She tried again, but the door didn't budge.

Olivia watched her try once more before reaching around and giving the door a hard yank, its hinges creaking as it popped open. She gave a pleased grin as she held the door open for the blonde, who rolled her eyes.

"Butch," Alex said, the moonlight catching a playful glint in her eye before she disappeared into the dimness of the hallway. Olivia let the door close behind her, a smile stretching across her lips, and she leaned her head against the door, unsure of whether the quickening of her pulse had more to do with the adrenaline pumping through her or with the way the blonde had teased her.

* * *

><p>Alex drained her third glass of champagne as she said her goodbyes, Spade's eyes lingering on her as he pressed his smooth lips to her hand. "Until we meet again, Ms. Stewart," he said with a smile. "And I hope that is soon."<p>

"Touche, Mr. Spade," she replied graciously. "You do throw a lovely party." She allowed Mr. Klaus to extend the same courtesy to her other hand, his beard scratchy against her skin. She turned, exiting the ballroom before finally exhaling, the alcohol having a buzzing effect in her empty stomach. She turned towards the lobby, her heels clicking against the marble floors, eager to get back to Olivia's car, her body humming with both the alcohol and the success of the evening.

"Alexandra."

She stopped cold, her stomach clenching at the sound of the voice behind her. She turned slowly, catching sight of her stepfather as he eased himself out of an armchair and walked towards her, his gray hair swooped back over his forehead in a vain attempt to mask a bald spot that he took great pains to hide. "I certainly didn't expect to run into you here," Sam Thorne said, placing his hands in his trouser pockets as he took note of her dress. "Are you coming from the ballroom?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face. "Since when do you hobnob with the likes of Jack Spade?"

Alex kept her voice level, even as she wanted to look away from his gaze. His eyes were softer than Robert's but she knew they still held a hardened, unequivocal hatred towards her. "An old acquaintance from school invited me," she bluffed. "Not all of us can be such old friends with Mr. Spade and his like."

The older man gave her a pitied smile. "I'm simply meeting a colleague for dinner, my dear, nothing more than that. You may vilify me all you like, Alexandra. You made your own choices."

A low laugh bubbled from her throat, shaking her body like a wave of thunder. "I may have made my own choices, but my mother sure didn't."

He didn't acknowledge her quip, but instead simply cleared his throat, glancing about the room as if she didn't merit his full attention. "Robert shared with me the complaint you filed to the courts. It was a precious attempt." He stared down at her. "But it will be considered moot by every judge in this district."

"And why is that?" she challenged. "Because you're lining their pockets with your dirty money?"

This time he laughed, chuckling good naturedly at her. "Oh, my dear Alexandra, how wrong you are," he said. "Consider me lining their pockets with _your_ money." His smile turned venomous in the space of a second and she felt her resolve break inside her, standing silently in her place as he moved around her, heading for the hotel restaurant, not bothering to look back at her.

She felt her fingernails digging into her palms, her body rigid, and only moved when a passerby stopped in front of her. "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

She shrugged him off, stepping quickly towards the door, pushing through it and welcoming the sounds of the city that seemed filled the vacuum within her. For once, she wanted to pretend that she fit in with the people around her, that she could echo their smiles, their laughter, and be just as convincing. She pushed her altercation with stepfather out of her head, instead focusing on what she had learned from the evening, the joy she would get at sharing it with her boss.

A car rolled slowly down the street next to her, a dark head leaning over the passenger seat and peering out the window. "Looking for something, Ma'am?" Olivia asked with a smile as she came to a stop along the curb. At the sound of the familiar voice, Alex felt her tension morph into a solid ball, still inside her, but something smaller and more manageable.

"I'm looking for a good time," she said. "Think you can help me with that?" the blonde continued, leaning over and peering back at her.

"I think I can," Olivia replied, noticing something in her assistant's eyes that lay just outside her comprehension. "After all, I didn't wear a suit for nothing." She smiled as Alex opened the car door and settled in, satisfaction etched deeply across her face. "Did you say your genteel goodbyes?" she said with a flourish of her hand, which seemed tied to the curl of her lips.

"I did," Alex said, returning her smile. Her stepfather floated into her mind, his presence altering her mood, but she forced him away from her consciousness, preferring instead to focus on the woman next to her. "I think you'll be pleased with what I managed to find out for you, Detective."

"Well, spill it. There's plenty of time for you to catch me up. We've got a bit of a drive ahead, judging by the number of cars on the road tonight."

"Where are we going?"

"A place where we'll both fit right in," Olivia replied, inching her way into traffic with a smile.

* * *

><p>"Been here before?" Olivia asked as they pulled up to a curb, the neon glow of Birdie's sign infiltrating the darkness of the car.<p>

Alex peered up at the brightly lit sign, the same one she'd passed by many a time on her way home, the glow of the sign illuminating the curiosity on her face. "No," she replied quietly. "I've wondered about it."

"Well, wonder no more," the detective said as she climbed out of the car. Alex began to open her own car door, but Olivia was at her side in a flash, extending her hand down toward the blonde. Alex readily accepted it, smiling, and grateful that the blue glow of the sign masked the blush that crept into her cheeks.

"Such a gentleman," she said in approval as Olivia guided her towards the door, holding it open with one hand while guiding her inside by the small of her back, the bare flesh cool against her palm. Olivia had entered Birdie's on many packed nights, and tonight was no different, except the blonde beside her seemed to suck in the attention of the women around her. The lighting was low, but not so low that Olivia didn't see the gazes that followed Alex as the two of them drifted through the wafting cigarette smoke towards an empty table. Alex seemed oblivious to the stares, her eyes darting around, absorbing the entirety of the scene before her.

"How about I grab us some drinks?" Olivia asked as she settled Alex into her chair.

The blonde was most certain she'd had her fair share of champagne, but she pushed her caution away. "Why not?" she said, with a nod of her head, still gazing around the room.

Olivia walked towards the bar, catching a glimpse of Nan, who stood behind the counter, her eyes scanning over something at the register. She hit the machine with an open palm, frustration bowing her mouth. The corners didn't upturn as she caught sight of Olivia.

"That machine vote against a bill of yours?" Olivia asked with a smirk.

"This machine has more brains than the lushes in Congress, that's for damn sure." The older woman hit it again, more forcefully. "Or it used to." One more deliberative band, and t made a ringing noise, which seemed to be what Nan had been waiting for.

"You didn't come by the other night," she said, making it hard to read the emotion behind the words, as she kept her gaze focused on her task at hand.

Olivia glanced down at the counter. "I got caught up."

Nan gave a shake of her hand, disbelieving, but finally glanced up, noticing Olivia's getup for the first time, and her eyes glowed a warm green. "What's got you so dolled up, handsome?" she asked, her eyes trailing over the black buttons of the detective's shirt.

Olivia's blush wasn't lost on her for a second, and she cocked her head towards the open room. "Who are you here with?" she asked curiously.

"No one," Olivia answered, too quickly. "I mean, I'm just here with my new hire. We're coming from an investigation, that's all."

Nan eyed the outfit again. "An investigation, huh? And you come here?" She stood on her toes, her eyes scanning the room. "Well, you must introduce me. What are you drinking?"

Olivia remembered the scotch incident from a few nights earlier, and decided to err on the side of caution by requesting a clear liquor. "Tom Collins," she answered.

Nan beckoned to a short brunette behind her, repeating the order before she pegged Olivia with a playful gaze. "Let me see if I can find her," she said, rounding the bar and scanning the crowd with a thoughtful eye. "Hmm," she said, eying a raven haired beauty sitting alone at a far table, staring glumly into space. "Too dark for you. You're too much of an optimist underneath that hard exterior." Her finger pinpointed a honey-colored woman, her head leaning against a hand as she stared calmly out the window. "Too wistful. You like your women grounded, so suffocating in reality." She chuckled, and suddenly put a finger to her lips. "Ah," she cooed, her gaze falling on Alex, who sat, her composed shoulders hunched over a pamphlet that she held in her hands, her blonde hair falling in waves over her bare back. "Olivia," Nan breathed. "Well chosen."

The detective's face reddened, but she lead the two of them back to the table, giving Nan a warning glance. "Be nice," she said, prompting an innocent raise of her ex's shoulders. Alex looked up at them as they approached, wearing a warm smile as she set her reading material aside. Olivia spoke, breaking the ice before Nan could. "Alex, this is Nan Vernon. She owns this fine establishment."

Alex was on her feet, her practiced pedigree palpable through the handshake she extended towards the older woman. "Ms. Vernon, pleasure to meet you. This is quite an endeavor you have here."

The tone of the comment wasn't lost on Nan, but she appreciated the tacit acknowledgment. "It's needed," she replied. "I can only hope that you'll enjoy yourself to the fullest," she said with a glimmer in her eye.

"Only if you'll join us," Alex said, eliciting an eye roll from Olivia. Did the blonde always have to be so proper?

The three of them sat, and Nan wasted no time in covering the basics, filling in the many gaps that Olivia had left in her description with the small talk with which she was so adept. "Olivia tells me you've been a great asset to the office," she said with a smile. "She needed it."

The detective hoped Nan would ease her third degree, but Alex seemed fine with the conversation, and Olivia realized how few points of contact the blonde must have outside of the office. Unless she wanted to mingle with the whores in her hallway, which she highly doubted. She sat back, enjoying the banter between the two women, and was more than pleased that Alex could hold her own against the always formidable Nan Vernon.

"You both should come to the Women for New York gala next month. Those rich women could make for some very interesting clients."

"I don't do galas," Olivia said, taking a sip of her replenished drink. The night was waning, and she eventually wanted the blonde to herself, but Nan didn't seem to be getting the message. Rather, she seemed to be enjoying her conversation with Alex, a fact that Olivia deemed wholly reprehensible.

"No, but maybe with the right pedigree on your shoulder, you can make an impression." She gave Alex a colluding glance. "I assume you'll work on her?"

Alex smiled. "Of course. I would love to go, actually. I need to become more civically engaged."

"I think we're already pretty engaged," Olivia retorted. She interacted with the higher-ups and real decision makers in the city every day, even if they were more de facto officials, climbing their way to the top through violence and crime. How much more engaged could she get?

"Excuse me," interrupted a young woman, tall and lanky with short curls falling across her forehead, her gray suit falling loosely over her shoulders. Olivia noticed that she didn't bother glancing at either her or Nan, her eyes solely focused on Alex. "May I have this dance?"

Nan smiled easily over at Alex, but Olivia wasn't so quick to give up a grin. The woman standing next to her with an outreached hand seemed nice enough, her soft features placated by a dashing smile, but the request cut her on a rough edge.

Alex glanced over at Olivia, as if daring her to extend her own invitation, but the brunette gave her an encouraging smile. The blonde nodded up to the other woman, and daintily took her hand, following her out on to the dance floor, their step quickening as they eased into the rhythm of a jumpy swing record.

Olivia could feel Nan's eyes on her, and waited for her comment. "She's beautiful. Quite bright."

The detective shrugged, hoping to keep her response casual. "She keeps me on my toes. The office is much more efficient."

"Olivia, you could have a mole rat running your office and it would be more efficient than your chaotic system." She smiled, and placed a comforting hand on the detective's shoulder. "You should have danced with her."

"You know I don't like to dance."

"Then dance with her later." Nan darted a look over at her, and although she seemed like she wanted to extend a hand and place it over Olivia's own, she refrained. "You need a distraction in your life," she continued, nodding over at Alex, whose head was tossed back in pure enjoyment. "And I think you may have found it." She smiled as she stood, leaning over and placing a chaste kiss on the crown of Olivia's head. "I need to get some sleep."

"I didn't know you slept."

Nan smiled. "That's for some other girl to learn. Goodnight, Olivia." The detective grazed the hand that lightly touched her shoulder before returning her attention to Alex. She was a good dancer, her body moving with ease under the other woman's touch, and Olivia took a comforting pleasure in just watching her. The song changed to a slower number, and Olivia watched the hesitation cross the blonde's brow for a moment, but the other woman pulled her into her, wrapping her arms around her waist. Olivia cringed as the fingers made their way to the bare skin on Alex's back, and she cursed, realizing she wanted her own hands to be grazing the soft skin there. Instead, she distracted herself by snapping her fingers towards the closest waitress. If she couldn't wrap her hands around Alex, she would at least wrap them around another drink.

By the time her assistant drifted back towards the table, Olivia had finished and replenished Alex's own drink, which sat newly topped off in front of her chair.

"Ah," the blonde said, slipping back into her seat and wrapping her fingers around the glass. "I love this place. I never want to leave."

Olivia smiled over at the wistful expression on the younger woman's face, and she wanted to etch it into her own memory, so as to take it home with her later that night. She cleared her throat, turning her attention outwards. "Be careful, Nan will snatch you up as a marketing executive."

Alex smiled, tossing her head as she took a long sip of her drink. "I like my current job," she replied casually, her head still bobbing around the room.

"Well, you still have about half a roomful of women who are eyeing you to dance."

Alex chuckled. "These heels are killing me. No more dancing unless it's barefoot in my flat."

Olivia raised an eyebrow, willfully ignoring the image the blonde planted in her mind. "I thought they were comfortable? Meant for trailing perps on hard New York sidewalks for hours and hours?"

Alex tossed her napkin toward the detective. "I don't like it when women twist my words to their advantage." She looked around her, and Olivia caught a recklessness in her eyes, either emboldened by the alcohol or the general ardor of their night, she didn't know. She was just grateful to hear the next words out of the blonde's beautiful, smiling lips. "Why don't we get out of here?"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks, Rae, for your editing eye. And thanks Jazz, for the encouragement :)<strong>

**And thanks to everyone else who reviews - I can't tell you how rewarding they are!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Trouble with Dames  
><strong>**Chapter 9**

Olivia gulped in the fresh night air as she stepped outside of the smoky club, smiling as Alex stood beside her, both of them staring out into the street. "So where to?" the detective asked, placing her hands inside the pocket of her coat and feeling more than a little elated as the alcohol buzzed through her body. Nan had kept their glasses full throughout their time at the club, and Olivia suspected that her generosity was meant to embolden the two of them. So far, it seemed her plan was working.

"How well do you know this neighborhood?" Alex asked, and Olivia recognized the same glazed elation mirrored in the blue eyes that glanced back at her.

She shrugged. "Well enough." She chuckled, pleased with her own quip before the words had even made it out of her mouth: "Well enough to know not to be walking around it with a beautiful blonde after a certain hour."

"I want to show you something," Alex replied, her smile innocently wide, unperturbed by the seediness of her own neighborhood. Olivia found her enthusiasm somewhat contagious.

"There can't possibly be anything worth seeing around here," she goaded, recognizing her lame attempt at keeping her head level. Now wasn't the time to go traipsing about the streets, even if she did feel like pleasing Alex, if only to keep that smile on her face.

"Now who's the debutante?" Alex teased, slipping her arm through her boss' and leaning inward, her soft breath lightly whisping against Olivia's neck. "There's plenty of beauty around you, if you look," she said, her eyes darker in the low light of the moon, appearing almost violet.

Olivia broke their gaze, if only to calm her heart, whose beat had increased exponentially with the other woman's touch. She glanced across the street, where women in short, flappy dresses were already proliferating the corner, eyeing one another in attempts at staking out their territory. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I guess."

Alex grinned, following the detective's gaze, but dragged her in the opposite direction. "Wait, where are we going?" Olivia asked, surprised by the blonde's sudden spontaneity, which never got a chance to display itself at the office, where she kept their schedules organized and neatly arranged, never straying from the plan that she had sketched for the day.

"Quit asking questions," Alex replied. "Don't you do that enough on the job?" She laughed lightly, a girlish giggle that made Olivia chuckle in spite of her complete lack of geographical reference at the moment.

"And I guess you save all your jokes for the weekend?" she retorted, allowing her assistant to pull her around a corner. They walked north for a couple of blocks before rounding an abandoned building, its windows long blown out, and passed under a dilapidated bridge that looked as if it was ten years past its demolition date. The street dead-ended into a grassy, if somewhat muddy patch of land that spread out into a small spring of some sorts, which stretched for at least a quarter of a mile along the abandoned land.

"What is this?" Olivia asked, surprised. She had never known anything like it existed in this part of the city.

"Before it was paved over, Manhattan had water running all over it," Alex said, her eyes on the water. "Small rivers and springs, but over the past fifty years or so it's all been paved over. But they still run underground. This is the only place I know of where it's still visible." She heard only silence next to her, and for a moment insecurity punctured the carefree attitude she had constructed around her with the help of more than a few drinks.

But Olivia was merely staring out into the small river, as if transfixed, her skin almost glowing in the light of the moon, and her hair flittering over her forehead in the light breeze that came at them from the other side of the water.

"I come out here from time to time, just to be in the quietness of it. I walk a lot in the mornings," she continued, with a raw glance at the detective. "That's how I found it. It was like coming upon some secret dream. Now I think of it as mine. Something that no one cares about enough to take away from me."

Olivia felt her Alex's eyes on her, but she couldn't seem to summon an appropriately philosophical thought, and she blamed her buzzed brain for it. Instead, she just opted for honesty, and said the exact thoughts that came to mind, despite their personal nature. "Elliot took me to the Queens harbor for the first time when we were about seven," she said. "We never went anywhere, or traveled, so it was my first time seeing such a big spread of water. I went straight home and told my mom about it, I was so excited. I think she was sober. I think she was, but she said, 'roll forth, my song, like the rushing river; that sweeps forth to the sea." She shrugged. "I never forgot that quote."

"That's James Mangan," Alex said with a smile. "Your mother had fine taste in poetry."

Olivia smiled over at her. "You know I never bothered to find out where it came from?"

"That doesn't surprise me."

"Why's that?"

"It's a beautiful line. I'd rather think my mother made it up, too, if I were you."

Olivia's smile faded, and she turned her head abruptly back to the water. Alex's words uncovered the lie that she had told herself throughout her childhood, every time she recited those words to herself, even though as she grew older she knew the woman that had birthed her was no more capable of coming up with a coherent thought than she was putting food on the table. Still, even as an adult, she had remembered the organic way in which the words slipped from her mother's lips, as if being recalled from someplace deep inside her, and she always thought of them when she looked at a body of water, and felt the same, peaceful utter stillness, that maybe her mother had wanted more for them.

Alex cleared her throat, unaware of how close she had come to penetrating her boss' psyche, and Olivia quickly swallowed, thrusting her hands in her pockets and regaining some sense of mental balance. The silence seemed to wash over them, until Alex finally spoke. "If I told you I had an apple pie at my flat," she said, "would that convince you to come back with me?"

* * *

><p>Olivia shrugged her coat from her shoulders and laid it over the back of one of the chairs that sat at Alex's small kitchen table, which seemed to serve as a desk as well. She sifted through a pile of books that lay scattered across its surface, a different batch from the selection that had been on display during her last unannounced visit. "Principles of Estate Law," she said, repeating the name of one of the volumes. "Fascinating."<p>

Alex smiled over her shoulder from where she was reaching up towards a small cabinet to collect a couple of saucers. "You can clear those off," she said as she slid a small pastry box towards her, which was still wrapped tightly with string. "Unless you want to discuss the finer points of estate law over dessert."

"I think that's more of a first-course discussion," the detective said, smirking as she stacked the books on top of one another and carried them over to a stack near the window.

"You and Nan Vernon used to date?"

Olivia glanced behind her as she slowed her gait, the boldness of the question catching her off guard, but Alex didn't look surprised, nor suspicious, but merely curious. "Is it that obvious?" she asked.

Alex laughed. "Call it women's intuition," she said. "What happened?" Again, the same nonjudgmental curiosity.

Olivia set the books gingerly down onto the ground, halting them from toppling over with a quick movement of her hand. "Can't you tell? She's too good for me."

Alex sloppily plated two pieces of pie, alcohol seemingly the only thing able to thwart her impeccable hosting skills. "You're probably right," she teased. "But I don't think that's really what happened. I think you were both too attached to your work." She licked some crumbs from her thumb, pleased with her observation.

Olivia placed her hands on her hips, in a vain attempt at regaining some autonomy over the course of the conversation. "And what happened to your girlfriend?" she asked, alluding to the mysterious woman that Alex's brother had referred to during his tirade earlier that week.

"She married a man," the blonde replied evenly. Olivia stared back at her, looking for some sign of anger or sadness, but the blue eyes were level and unemotional.

"She took the easy way out," the detective replied, rocking on the balls of her feet., confident in her own judgment, as she'd had several similar experiences in her own sordid romantic past. "She didn't have the courage to live her life."

Alex shrugged. "Well, she's had four children and her husband's a raging lunatic. I wouldn't exactly call that the easy way out." The blonde sat the two saucers of pie down on the table, turning back and pulling out a drawer that clanged with silverware.

"Do you still love her?" Olivia asked, her attention suddenly captured by a record player that sat against the window, which she hadn't noticed before. It was an older model, but beautiful, its ornate wood polished despite its age.

"No, I don't," Alex said. "I feel sorry for her." She paused, but seemed unable to hold in her next statement. "You still love Nan, though."

Olivia didn't look back at her, instead letting her fingers trail along the edges of the records that stacked the small shelf underneath the player. "I love what I had with her in the beginning, maybe," she said, her thoughts muddled even as they slipped from her lips. "But people change."

Alex didn't respond, and the two existed for a moment in two separate worlds, each occupied with a solitary task. The blonde put water on the stove, watching it in silence as it boiled, and Olivia continued grazing through album after album, surprised at the breadth of her assistant's collection, which included records that the brunette only recalled after years of sifting through the pieces at Birdie's. The silence was only broken after Olivia came across one of her favorites, plucking it from the shelf and running her fingers over the cover. "I didn't know you were a fan of the blues," she said, slipping it from its sheath. "I pegged you only for an "1812 Overture" kind of girl."

"That's in there, too, somewhere," Alex said with a grin as she squinted towards the album that Olivia displayed. "Oh, of course. Sarah Vaughn. Another way to alienate my mother. How could I not love her?" She chuckled, walking over and picking up another album cover that lay on the floor next to the player. "This is my favorite, though," she said, placing the needle onto an album that already sat on top of the spindle, indicating that it was a frequently used part of the blonde's collection.

Olivia didn't immediately recognize the tune, and attempted to look down at the name, which circled underneath her gaze. "Ben Pollack," Alex said. "An old swing guy, one of my father's favorites, but he never told my mother." She laughed at some unshared memory. "In this place, I tend to stay away from the blues and stray towards the happier tunes. I get enough of the blues just looking out of my window."

Olivia let the music seep inside her, its bouncing piano and sing-song strings creeping all the way to her toes, which sketched out the musics tempo as she tapped her foot.

"It's called, 'You Made Me Happy Today,' Alex said, her own body swaying as she crossed the small space that separated her from Olivia. "You never did dance with me," she said, one hand on her hip.

Olivia looked over at her. "I have managed to go over thirty years without having to know how to dance," she replied.

"You can still keep up your charade," Alex said with a colluding smile, her voice lowering. "I won't tell anyone." She extended her hand, wrapping her fingers around the detective's wrist as she pulled her forward, her smile lively as she swayed her hips. "Let me teach you," she purred.

It was that sudden smoothness of her voice that toppled any of the willfulness the detective had left, and she allowed the blonde to sashay gently against her, the song's rhythm at a nice, even tempo as the singer's lyrics drifted effortlessly over them.

"Spin me," Alex directed, and she shot outwards, Olivia's hand lifting up and seeming to spin the younger woman almost automatically. She pressed a hand against the detective's chest, as she spun back, smiling up at her. "See, it's something that you should be pretty good at - all instinct."

Olivia could feel her body loosening. Alex was clearly leading, but she fit perfectly inside the detective's arms, and Olivia couldn't help but feel as if she was offering some sort of shelter for her. The record ended, the dull scratching fading into the sounds from the street below, muffled shouts and voices that seemed very far away. Alex sighed, her hands moving gently from Olivia's shoulders, down to her biceps. The gesture was soft, and something curious flickered behind her eyes before they darted back up to meet the detective's own pressing gaze. Olivia caught the curiosity, and, as usual, went with her gut. She leaned down and pressed her lips against the blonde's.

Alex didn't seem surprised by her action, but rather pressed back into the kiss, parting her lips to allow Olivia full access to her mouth. Her arms retraced their course back up the detective's shoulders and around her neck, quickly moving to ruffle through the short, dark locks. They parted eventually, both breathless, and Olivia pulled back, unable to tell whether it was desire or alcohol blurring her vision, but she knew that kiss wouldn't be the last of her contact with the woman in front of her, and she pulled the lithe body closer to her. "I won't stay the night," she whispered, leaning her forehead against Alex's, who nodded her head in agreement.

"I think that's for the best," she returned, catching the detective's lips with her own.

"After all, it would be inappropriate," Olivia murmured, nipping the blonde's bottom lip.

"Yes, it would," Alex replied softly, letting her tongue delve further into the detective's mouth. Convinced that the other woman was okay with their arrangement, Olivia took the lead, pressing her back against the closest wall available.

Alex's fingers were already pushing against the brunette's suit jacket, alleviating it of her shoulders. She grasped desperately at the buttons on Olivia's dress shirt, as if unable to rid her of her clothes fast enough. The brunette let her push open her shirt and have the first contact with her heated skin before gripping the thin wrists and pressing them firmly against the wall, taking a moment to enjoy an uninterrupted view of Alex's swollen lips and the nipples that were beginning to harden under the fabric of her dress.

Olivia wasn't thinking clearly, and may not have been thinking at all. Her body was solely reacting to the tall, lithe one in front of her, and she wanted to possess it fully. One look at the blue eyes that stared back at her let her know that Alex was feeling just as reckless, and she leaned in to capture the parted lips once more, letting her tongue probe inside. She felt Alex's hands relax in her grip as the blonde melted into the kiss with a low moan.

They broke, breathlessly, and Alex's eyes moved hungrily over the brunette's body, as if she could continue undressing her with her eyes. Olivia moved her hands down the blonde's bare arms, letting them slide gently over her breasts before cupping them through the thin silk of her dress. Her fingers worked the already hardened nipples into stiff peaks, teasing them with her thumbs as she squeezed somewhat roughly, if only because her hands weren't moving as fast as her desire wanted them to.

The touch wasn't enough, however, and Olivia wanted her palms against the blonde's bare skin. She fumbled against the back of Alex's dress, sighing as her fingers found the zipper, and she tugged it down, wasting no time in slipping the straps off the blonde's shoulders, and letting her lips trace a line from her collarbone up to the softness just underneath her earlobe, taking a moment to suckle the sensitive skin. Her fingers were already kneading Alex's breasts, the mounds of flesh pooling perfectly in her hands.

She let out a low growl as Alex's hands found her belt buckle, yanking it with sudden force, and lowering the zipper on her trousers. Just as her fingers found her way inside, cupping the warmth there, Olivia leaned over, taking a pert, pink nipple into her mouth, and their moans wove against each other, each woman experiencing their own pleasurable sensations.

Olivia's hands rustled against the blonde's thighs, pulling her dress up over her hips, and feeling the dampness that coated her panties. She paused for a moment, staring at Alex, whose eyes were on locked onto Olivia's own heaving chest, her hands moving up to coax her breasts through the fabric of the bra that she still wore. If Olivia had a moment of clear-headedness, of wondering how she would confront her assistant come Monday morning, it had all but disappeared with the feeling of Alex's hungry hands on her body, and she leaned into the woman, giving her a passionate, bruising kiss as her fingers found their way inside the cloth barrier.

The warm wetness sent Olivia further over the edge, and she wanted her fingers inside the blonde as quickly as possible. Judging by the way that Alex wrapped her arms around her neck, her fingers pulling roughly against her hair, Olivia could tell that she was ready for her. She thrust upwards, her fingers finding a snug, warm place inside of Alex, and the woman slumped back against the wall, her eyes closing as her teeth bit her lower lip.

Olivia's hand found a steady rhythm, and her other moved quickly over the blonde's breasts, kneading each one in turn, taking care to pinch and pull just enough to turn Alex's demure moans into something more primal. Their lips locked again, but each of them seemed to want to devour the other, their mouths quickly moving to taste the skin of each other's necks, behind their ears, nipping a collarbone.

Alex wrapped a leg around Olivia's waist, giving her more access to her center, and the detective understood, immediately circling her thumb across the swollen bundle of nerves at her core. The sex was wordless, the only sound their intertwining moans, as if speaking during such an act would have made it too real. Only after Alex uttered a distinct, quiet, "Please," did Olivia insert another finger inside her, filling her and curling her fingers forward, as if pulling the woman even closer to her. The motion worked, and she felt Alex's muscles clinch around her, the blonde hair fluttering against her cheek as her assistant's head slumped forward to rest on her shoulder.

Olivia kept her fingers nestled snugly inside Alex until her shudders had ceased, and even then was reluctant to pull them out of her tight warmth. The blonde made her decision for her, however, pushing her lightly away from her, and shimmied out of her dress, which was still bunched at her hips. Fully nude now, she pressed Olivia towards the bed that sat in its tiny alcove near the window, pushing her down onto the bed.

Olivia let her eyes for the first time drink in the sight of her partner, all long limbs, perfectly pooled breasts, and a long, lithe neck that begged for attention. Before the detective could force her brain to work in tandem with her mouth, the blonde leaned over and pushed Olivia's dress shirt over her shoulders. She did the same with her bra, and the cold rush of air against her nipples immediately hardened them. With a confident hand, Alex pushed the detective down on her back, pulling the rest of her clothes off her willing body. Olivia let her eyes close as she felt herself being bared fully, the coolness of the air quickly countered by the heat of Alex's skin as she slid her body on top of the detective's, letting her tongue guide her way.

Olivia's hands stretched above her head, grasping for something to hold onto, and settling for the thin blanket, which she balled in her clenched fists as the other woman's tongue worked its way up her torso, settling into a circular motion around her nipple.

She arched her chest as Alex directed her attention toward the opposite breast, while letting one hand reach down to caress Olivia's wet folds, eliciting a pleasured shudder. Olivia felt the blonde smile against her, nipping her breast with gentle teeth before turning her attention lower. The blue eyes that stared up at her were no longer glazed over with happy drunkenness, but instead laced with a passion much more dangerous. The lust in them only caused Olivia to raise her hips, wanting to feel Alex's lips on her, and she reached out, placing her hand on the back of the tussled blonde hair and pressing her against her.

Alex accepted the force with grace, nestling between the brunette's legs and immediately setting her mouth upon the damp curls, letting her fingers trace just inside Olivia's folds. The detective let out an appreciative groan, her hips bucking at the first touch, but turning into a slow writhe as Alex increased the circular motion of her tongue, applying just enough pressure to coax Olivia further towards the edge.

If the blonde's attention on her clit wasn't enough, her free hand was still on its mission to keep Olivia's nipples from feeling abandoned, as they plucked, tweaked, and pinched them in tandem with her oral attention. The detective felt a finger slide into her, and she welcomed it, moaning for more. She was rewarded quickly as Alex slid another into her, increasing the force of her thrusts with the increased pressure of her tongue, which flicked faster over the nerves at her center.

Alex pulled the swollen bud further into her mouth, suckling it and allowing the brunette's own writhing hips to increase the friction. For her part, Olivia was becoming more and more breathless, and she sank herself onto the blonde's fingers, letting out a pleased groan as they curled inside her. She was close, and Alex seemed to sense it, her tongue providing a constant, steady pressure against the bundle of nerves that threatened to dismantle Olivia completely. With one hand gripping the sheet and the other gripping the blonde head that bobbed between her legs, she let out a final, shuddering moan, which seemed to shoot from her throat all the way down to her toes.

Her hands quickly found their way back to Alex's body as the blonde moved to straddle her, and Olivia couldn't help but feel the new wetness that brushed against her thigh. She let her fingers delve just inside the blonde, testing her discovery, while pulling her towards let out a slow exhale, her body almost subconsciously lowering over the detective's fingers. "We can't do this again," she said, a bit breathlessly. "Not after tonight."

Olivia smirked, her hands still playing in the blonde's tight curls, tracing the wetness down against her thighs. "Okay," she agreed easily, letting her thumb graze against Alex's still hardened clit. "But we still have tonight," she said, closing the gap between them and pulling Alex's lower lip with her teeth.

Alex pulled away from the kiss, giving Olivia a brief, flickering smile as she lowered her hips over the detective's fingers, inhaling at the initial intrusion, but quickly working into a rhythm. "Then let's not waste any time," she said, leaning forward and confirming her desire with a kiss.

* * *

><p>Olivia awoke abruptly, just a faint tinge of a headache circling her temples. The sky outside Alex's window was still somewhat hazy, but the rising sun would be peeping over the horizon before long. Alex lay on her stomach, her blonde hair falling haphazardly over her face. Olivia had already broken her promise from the night before, and had slept over, having passed out from sheer exhaustion sometime after their third round, but she knew space would probably be good for the two of them after such a reckless night. Still, she took a moment to appreciate the blonde's quiet repose as she slept, her usually furrowed brow relaxed in slumber.<p>

Olivia was used to casual sex; it had been a staple of her existence before Nan, and she was more than certain that Alex would be nothing less than professional about what had happened. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she sat up, placing her bare feet on the cold floor and looking around for her clothes, unsure of where they had ended up after her scramble to get them off. Padding silently across the floor, she gathered them up, a jacket tossed across the back of a chair, pants tossed to the floor near the foot of the bed.

Fastening the last buttons of her dress shirt, she took one more look at her slumbering assistant, and had a sudden thought. She wasn't getting attached to the woman in anything more than a sexual way, but that didn't mean she couldn't be nice. She grabbed Alex's keys where they rested on the table, and slipped the apartment key off its ring and into her hand, quietly creeping out into the hallway and locking the door behind her.

* * *

><p>The smell of coffee tickled Alex's senses, and she groaned into her pillow, the memories of the night before seeping slowly back into her consciousness. She felt the emptiness next to her, and although she hadn't expected to see her boss that morning, she couldn't help but notice how cold the sheets were. She sat up, stretching her arms over her head and blinked ahead, the source of the pleasant aroma revealing itself.<p>

On the table sat a still piping cup of coffee, along with a small pastry box. She moved quickly to grab the nightgown that she normally wore to bed, which was tangled in the sheets at her feet. Her clothes were still littered where she'd left them, but the detective hadn't left anything behind. Or, at least no clothes. She walked over towards the box, plucking it up from the table and catching the scent of freshly baked bread. Nestled inside was a large, fluffy croissant, with a napkin laid over it with a scrawled message, and she immediately recognized her boss' handwriting.

_Broke my promise and stayed through the night. Thought I'd make it up to you with breakfast. –O_

Alex pulled the croissant out of its bag, and took a bite, her mind deeper in thought than she would have liked. As someone who prided herself on control, she lost it last night. She sighed, taking another bite of the croissant. She wouldn't let that happen again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Well, it's early for a drink," Cragen said, setting a row of newly polished glasses along a shelf underneath the bar. Olivia didn't know of another bar in lower Manhattan that served such a shitty clientele with such clean glasses. But she never begrudged the retired cop his quirks.

"Not for a Monday," she replied, and Cragen shrugged, setting two glasses on the counter and filling them from a heavily aged bottle of Scotch that he kept hidden underneath the register. Olivia rarely saw him bring it out, and only when the bar was empty.

"Touche," he said, the amber liquid pooling in the second glass as he slid the first over to her. "What brings you in so early? Work or life?"

"Work is life," she retorted, all too aware that she hadn't done too good a job of keeping the two separate over the weekend. Her face reddened as the memory of her night with Alex rushed back to her, and she quickly hid behind the safety of her glass, letting the Scotch trickle slowly down her throat.

Cragen waited expectantly for more details, but when Olivia didn't offer any, simply continued. "I see Nan's back in the papers."

It was the only name that could pull the detective from her thoughts, and it worked. "Nan's always in the papers," she said, her eyes curious despite the levity in her voice.

Cragen gave her an accommodating nod. "As far as I know, she isn't usually being investigated by the District Attorney's office."

"What?" Olivia abandoned her glass and gave him her full attention. "What the hell for?"

Cragen pulled a newspaper from beside the register, flipping it open and pointing to a small article along one side of a back page. "'For fostering illicit and subversive activities', is all the papers are saying. If you want my opinion, it's just the Mayor wanting to punish her for that campaign she ran against him last year. He still hasn't managed to win back the women's vote."

Cragen had a point, but something about the timing didn't seem right to her. The Mayor wasn't running for reelection for another year and a half, and had nothing to gain by going after Nan or the club this early. "I'm sure Nan's found a number of ways to piss off the elected officials in Manhattan," she said, her brow furrowed despite the levity in her voice.

Cragen nodded. "How's the other woman in your life?" he asked with a grin, raising his glass and prompting a harsh look from Olivia, which caused him to lower his drink with a frown. "I mean your gal friday," he said, his grin fading momentarily. "No more holes in the ceiling, from what I hear?"

Olivia nodded, taking another small, slow sip of her drink, all too willing to delay her inevitable journey upstairs, where she was certain Alex had already been for hours, bent over text, her glasses fixed in their usual position upon her straight-as-an-arrow nose. Other, sparsely-clothed visions of the blonde had passed through her mind for most of the weekend, and she had spent much of it attempting to wash away those visions with a bottle of bourbon. But it hadn't worked. Despite the burn of the alcohol, she could still almost taste Alex on her tongue. "I just came from talking to Munch," she offered, hoping that by focusing on business, it would help take her mind off the pale flesh that she had sampled Saturday night.

Cragen humphed into his glass. "No wonder you need a drink. That cretin still down at the gym or has he found a new way to scrounge for money?"

Olivia smirked. "He was at the track this time."

Cragen nodded, unsurprised. "Scoundrel." He nursed his drink, setting it back down on the counter in front of him and turning his attention to shining the rest of the glasses he had been shelving. "What kind of information you have to squeeze out of him?"

Olivia hesitated, but only for a moment. "I wanted to find out where Spade goes to intercept his less legitimate shipments. The docks in Manhattan are a little too exposed for that."

Cragen nodded. "Now they are. They didn't used to be. Used to be criminals owned those docks. Prohibition changed all of that, now the cops know where to go to scrounge for their bread and oil money."

"Looks like now all that's taking place in the harbors of Queens."

Cragen nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds about right. You going solo, or you got backup?"

The door chimed, and both of them looked over, the early hour not usually bringing in too many visitors. Cragen's face turned sour quickly, and Olivia darted a look over at him, slugging down the rest of her drink. Judging by the visitor that had just walked in, she wouldn't be offered another, at least not today. "Speaking of backup," she said.

"Morning," Elliot said, tipping his hat as he walked towards them. "Don't mean to disturb you, but I caught you in the window. I was on my way up to the office."

Cragen tossed his towel over his shoulder, giving Elliot a once-over. "I'll be in the back," he said, almost grudgingly, as if he couldn't stand to be in the same room with the taller police officer. "Stay out of the Scotch."

Olivia raised her empty glass in acknowledgment, and swiveled in her chair toward Elliot, whose shoulders bristled at the older bartender's clear disdain. He waited until he was out of the room before he cringed, taking a seat next to his friend. "When the hell's he gonna get that chip of his shoulder?" he asked.

"He'll have that chip on his shoulder as long as you have that badge on yours," she replied with a stinging smile.

"He's lucky I don't raid this place," Elliot said, tossing his cap on the bar with an official frown.

"Right, and alienate every informant you got that does business here. You're not that stupid and neither is he. Just leave it at that." She ignored her friend's scoff and the childish way he crossed his arms over his chest, a posture that she had seem him adopt since they were kids, whenever he knew she was right and didn't want to admit it.

"What are you doing at a bar before noon?" he asked, stealing her drink and frowning when he realized it was empty. "If I had an assistant like yours, I'd be at work on time every day. You'd never get me to leave the office." He cocked his head, raising a finger as a connection dawned in his gray-blue eyes. "In fact, I got a buddy down at the precinct, just got out of a messy divorce - "

"She's off limits," Olivia said abruptly, yanking her glass back from his grip.

Elliot raised his eyebrows at his friend's sudden protectiveness. "She married?"

"No."

"Got a boyfriend?"

"No." Olivia looked over at him. "But he isn't her type, trust me."

Elliot crinkled his brow, puzzled. "Why not?" he pressed, as if suddenly taking an extreme interest in his own matchmaking abilities. "He's a nice guy, has a decent job, goes to church on Sundays."

"Does he have a dick?"

The comment caught Elliot off guard, and his mouth dropped open for a split second and he coughed, clearing his throat. "Probably not as big as yours," he said, with a slightly embarrassed laugh. "But, yes, I would bet that he does."

"Then I'm telling you." She stared pointedly at him, speaking slowly. "He isn't her type."

She let the words sink in, watching the realization dawn upon Elliot's features, ending with a befuddled shrug as he shook his head, baffled. "Huh. I never would've guessed that," he said.

"And why's that? Because she doesn't look like me?" Olivia asked, her shoulders tightening. Elliot may have been her closest friend, but that didn't mean he didn't show his obtuseness once in awhile. Of course, considering the company that she kept on a daily basis, she guessed she couldn't really complain.

"Nah, not at all. Nan certainly doesn't look like you, and I pegged her for a lesbian the first time that I met her. But Alex..." He pressed his lips together in a satisfied smirk as he saluted her. "You're a lucky woman, my friend."

Olivia smiled inwardly, but kept any sign of affection from her expression. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could convince herself of her own words. "Don't be so certain. She's not exactly a sit-at-home type of girl. If anything, she's working out to be a piece of work."

"Is that so?"

"This weekend she helped me tail Jack Spade by going undercover at a party of his."

This time Elliot did more than just raise his eyebrows. He turned to face her full on, and she could practically feel his gaze burn into her skin. "What is she now, your partner? You think that's wise?"

Olivia couldn't help the laugh that bubbled in her throat. All 'wise' thinking had gone out of the window the minute that Alex had walked into her life. Still, she had to admit, Elliot did have a point. The problem was, despite her naivete to the detective game, the blonde did have a hunch for what worked and what didn't. She had been pretty successful on Saturday night. And completely enchanting.

"I'd rather you just be fucking her than giving her fifty percent in your business," Elliot pressed, prompting a swift, quick punch to his shoulder from Olivia, who glared over at him.

"Keep your mouth shut, Elliot," she said, her own knuckles smarting from the quick jab, and she pressed her hand into her lap, irritated by her protective display.

Once again, she felt the cop's stare on her, and this time she met his gaze. He shook his head, giving a helpless laugh as he slapped the bar with his palm. "Shit, Liv, you are fucking her, aren't you?"

She raised her arm again, but he put his hands up defensively. "Sorry, sorry," he said, placating her, but his tone was still questioning. "You're sleeping with her?"

"It happened once, and it won't happen again," she answered, her voice unconvincing, even to herself.

Elliot simply smirked at her. "It's your business, Liv, you run it however you want to. I'm just saying, taking into account her past, with all those ties to the DA's office, that maybe you should be a little more careful with her. Trust is a fallible thing, you know. And I don't have to tell you, women can be pretty damn manipulative."

"Oh, spare me the chauvinist crap, Elliot. I happen to keep company with plenty manipulative men over the course of any given day. Most of which probably bribe your boss on a daily basis." She emphasized her point by stabbing a finger into the starched blue fabric of his uniform.

His gaze darkened, his eyes forming into tiny slits, as her comment hit home. "I don't know how much longer I'm willing to put up with this shit, Liv. I'm thinking about transferring out, going to some tiny place like New Hampshire or Rhode Island where I can raise the girls without all the corruption and the bullshit. It wears on me."

Olivia scoffed. "It should."

"Hey, a little sympathy, please?" he asked. "I'm bending over backwards to catch a madman who's murdering girls that no one else gives a shit about."

Olivia nodded over at him, bending over the counter and snatching Cragen's bottle of Scotch from behind the register, darting a look towards his office before pouring a double into her empty glass. She tucked the bottle back in its hiding place before sliding the glass over to Elliot, who took a long sip. "Any leads?" she asked, once she saw his eyes squint with the burn of the alcohol.

Elliot shook his head. "No. But the other day I caught Nicky Burns red-handed over in Skid Row, handing over money to some blonde, her lips probably just off his dick. So I took him in to the precinct. I don't care who he works for. I was just trying to prove a point."

"Johnny Mack bailed him right out, I'm sure." Even if the mob boss was having Olivia investigate one of his top men, family was still family. The last thing Johnny would want was undue police attention being paid to his turf.

Elliot shook his head. "No, he didn't. ADA Robert Thorne posted his bail. I saw him leave with Nicky."

Olivia looked over at him with a discerning eye. "Since when is the ADA close to Nicky Burns? Why would he care?"

Elliot shrugged. "How the hell should I know? I can barely keep up with who's in whose pocket on any given day anymore."

Olivia sighed, but the information tugged at her brain. "Welcome to my world," she said, snatching the glass back from him. "You shouldn't be drinking on the job." With that, she tossed back the rest of it, hoping it would steel her not against any of the loathsome foes she'd created over the past two weeks, but against beautiful blonde that was waiting for her upstairs.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, Alex was perched behind her desk, but not bent over a book, as was her normal posture. Instead, she was gazing out of her window, seemingly lost in whatever thoughts were traveling through her head. She jumped slightly as she heard the door open, turning quickly towards her boss with a polite, if anxious smile.<p>

"Morning, Ms. Cabot," Olivia said, cringing at her own formality as she shrugged out of her coat. She tipped her hat toward the blonde before hanging it on a lower hook, trying to avert her gaze as often as possible from her assistant. The effort was futile, however, as the strikingly blue blouse she wore seemed to beckon for attention.

"Good morning, Detective," she replied amiably. "Did you enjoy your weekend?" Her face flushed immediately, and she turned her gaze towards a few papers that she shuffled nervously in her hands. "I mean, did you enjoy the _rest_ of your weekend?" she asked quietly, her words trailing off.

Olivia was certain her face matched the shade of her assistant's, but she managed to nod her head. "I did, yes. Thanks." She cleared her throat. "You?"

Alex nodded, her face finally returning to its normal, milky hue. "I did." She started to turn her attention formally back to her work, but her eyes raised almost bashfully to meet Olivia's. "I visited that old canal again. It's just as beautiful during the day as is at night."

If Olivia was attempting to do all that she could to avoid the blue eyes that peered up at her, Alex seemed to be doing everything in her power to unravel that resolve. The detective ran her fingers nervously along the straps of her suspenders before stuffing them dumbly in her pockets. "I'm glad you like it," she said, feeling the alcohol finally start to loosen her tongue, and she cursed Cragen for his hospitality. "The best is during a full moon. The light on the water, it makes you think its as deep as twenty leagues. Like you'll never know all its secrets." She cleared her throat, aware that she had momentarily felt out of place, like she wasn't in her dingy office, but someplace else. She blamed the blue eyes that still stared up at her. "Any messages?" she asked, averting her gaze to the blonde's organized desk.

Alex nodded, her hands moving quickly towards a small stack of paper messages, as if grateful to be given a task. "Several," she said. "One new client, Mrs. Jensen, who wants to make an appointment for Thursday. An old client, Mr. Galiope, who wants a copy of an old report you did for him. He wouldn't say why, he just said he preferred not to share his personal business with 'ladies'. He said he would rather talk to you." She smirked, the corners of her lips curling into a girlish grin. "Whatever that means."

Olivia sighed, reaching for the messages. "So begins an average day at the office." Her smile faded as her hand touched Alex's, and she didn't pull away quickly enough to prevent the jolt of electricity that ran up her arm. She cleared her throat again, tasting the Scotch on her tongue. "Okay, then," she said needlessly, heading abruptly towards her office. Before stepping through the threshold, she turned back, careful to focus her attention on the window just behind Alex's head. "Feel free to run any errands you need to today," she said, grasping for words. "You know, if we need anything here at the office... just... feel free to take any time you need."

Alex glanced around the office, as if taking an inventory and seeing nothing glaringly missing. "Okay," she said uncertainly. "Did you want me to run any specific errands?"

"And, um, if you want to take an hour for lunch, feel free," Olivia continued, waving her hand casually. The more Alex was out of the office, she was sure, the less she would think about her. It was a weak approach, but it was all she had at the moment. "We're pretty slow today."

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced and slightly amused at her boss' behavior. "Don't we need to discuss what happened Saturday?" she asked. She closed her eyes for a moment, slipping her glasses off sheepishly. "I meant, don't we need to discuss what happened with Jack Spade," she clarified, her voice low in embarrassment.

Olivia felt the Scotch running through her veins at the unintentional memory, and was ready to lock herself away in her office and away from the enticing blonde, if only for a moment of respite. "I think we debriefed enough," she said. "I'm going to see about getting some back up at the Queens docks, see if I can catch Spade red-handed."

Alex nodded. "I'm not familiar with those docks," she said, making a note to herself. "I'll go down to the Port Authority and get some maps. We may need them to navigate."

Olivia raised a halting hand, her brain suddenly, thankfully focused on the business at hand. "Whoa, whoa," she said, confiscating her assistant's steadily moving pen. "I'm going to Queens. You did your part for this case, Alex. I'll take it from here."

Alex rolled her eyes, her irritation almost palpable. "Are we really back here again?" she asked. "I thought we had covered this time and again. I'm a partner on this case. I'm going with you."

Olivia took a deep breath, almost glad that the blonde was testing her patience. Anger and irritation were two emotions that she was sure she could express. At least they didn't lead to lust, or anything else that might lead her dangling over the precipice that she had found herself on a few nights before. "Alex, don't get me wrong. You were great Saturday night - at the Spade party, I mean - but it ends there. I take over from here."

Alex was quiet, and when she didn't offer an immediate comeback, Olivia gave a slight nod and headed towards her office. She was stopped, however, by the blonde's voice, which spat her words with vehemence. "I'm not just a secretary."

Olivia turned, walking back towards the desk and leaning over it until her own face was mere inches from Alex's. Still, the blonde didn't give her any room, and only steeled her gaze to meet the detective's fierce eyes. Despite her irritation, she was still drawn to the younger woman, her sweet scent already familiar. "Trust me," she said, her voice dipping lower, "I know you're not just a secretary." She had been prepared to go further, to continue her tirade, and to point out that whatever Alex wasn't, she was a paid employee. Her voice, however, seemed to catch in her throat, and she found her eyes mistakenly veering over the younger woman's face, her pale neck, down to the low-cut top that barely masked the breasts that she had thought about ever since she first touched them.

She shook her head, hoping that her stare wasn't too noticeable. The blush creeping through Alex's cheeks, however, told her that it had been quite the lingering look, and she straightened quickly, suddenly flushed, and had the sudden urge to open a window. She strode silently into her office, closing the door behind her and heading towards her bathroom, where a quick splash of cold water helped slow down her quickening pulse. It was one thing to accidentally sleep with her assistant and another to fantasize about doing it again right in the middle of her own office.

She settled into her chair, losing herself for a moment in the recording device next to an old camera she had stowed away in her desk, imagining that it would come in handy that weekend if she were trying to capture enough evidence so that the police could run with something against Jack Spade. She wasn't surprised to hear the light knock at her door, and even less surprised when Alex poked her head in without waiting for a response, her lips clasped in a firm, thin red line.

She sat gracefully in front of Olivia's desk, peering over at her with a businesslike stare, although her hands fumbled nervously with the small notepad in her lap. "Detective," she said formally, "what happened over the weekend - "

Olivia held up a hand, nodding. "I know," she said. "It was - "

"A mistake."

The description couldn't have been more truthful, but it still hurt as Olivia digested the thought. "Certainly," she replied casually, but, she hoped, somewhat respectfully.

"And it won't - it can't - happen again."

Olivia knew she should nod, that she should give Alex some sort of encouragement. After all, that was the responsible thing to do, and she was almost abashed that she had waited for her assistant to bring it up first. "For what it's worth, Ms. Cabot," she said, mimicking the blonde's formality. "I had a great time with you on Saturday night, and would be willing to give a glowing recommendation to any future suitors on your behalf." She let her lip curl into a smile. "But you're right. Our relationship, from now on, will be consummately professional." She extended her hand for a shake, and Alex accepted it with only a slight hesitation, followed by an uncertain smile.

"Okay, then," the blonde said, tapping the edges of her notepad with her pencil.

Olivia glanced down at the nervous tick, which the composed woman so rarely displayed, and smiled at her. "Did you want to record any notes from this conversation?" she asked.

Alex pursed her lips, hugging the notebook to her chest as she rose from her chair. "Don't tease," she said, turning and stalking back to her side of the office.

"I won't, if you won't," Olivia replied under her breath, unable to tear her gaze away from the woman that walked away from her. Fortunately, her comment was overshadowed by the shrill ring of the telephone, and Alex picked up her pace back towards her desk.

"Benson, Private Eye," she said, readying her pen.

"Hey, Sharpshooter," said a voice that still sent a disgusted shiver up her spine, despite the fact that she had more than put him in his place. "It's Slim. Had any target practice lately?" She didn't respond, but the voice didn't seem deterred, and breezed over her silence. "Put Benson on the phone."

She rolled her eyes and leaned her head into the brunette's office. "Slim is on the line for you." She shook her head as Olivia reached for the phone that sat on her desk, not bothering to stifle her next comment. "The company you keep is absolutely dreadful."

Olivia smirked as she watched the blonde disappear into the front office, even the thought of Slim lingering on the line not dampening her mood. Despite her promise to the blonde, she knew she would have a hell of a time not breaking it.

* * *

><p>Olivia sat at a sidewalk cafe, tapping her foot impatiently. She had agreed to meet Slim, but only outside of the warehouse, where she could fully keep an eye on her surroundings. She had nursed a Coca-Cola for over fifteen minutes waiting for him, and was just about to leave him hanging, when she heard his voice linger over her shoulder.<p>

"Afternoon, Benson."

She turned, Slim's huge body ambling over to her table, perching carefully on a chair that was almost comically too small for his large frame.

"I can't believe you drink that stuff," he said, gesturing towards the bottle, while fishing a cigarette from his coat pocket. "It's addictive, you know."

"Isn't everything?" she asked, waving the smoke out of her eyes as it drifted over the table, causing her eyes to water.

He shrugged, flagging down a waitress with a large hand and a loud grunt. "Two calzones," he said, holding up the number with his right hand, as if to clarify his order.

"I'm not eating, Slim," Olivia said, taking a sip of her soda.

"Good, 'cause I ain't ordering nothing for you," he said, waving the waitress off and wiping the ever present sheen sweat off his neck with a handkerchief. "Now let's cut to the chase, so I can enjoy my lunch in peace. What have you got for me on Spade?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, even though she hadn't exactly expected manners from her lunch comrade. "What I 'got', is for your boss, Johnny Mack, and not for you. Remember that. You're not paying me, Slim."

He waved her remarks off with a flourish of his hand. "Noted. You don't like me, Benson, I got it. Now spill."

Olivia sighed. The more she delayed, the more time she would waste watching Slim stuff his face with two giant calzones, and she could think of better ways to spend her afternoon. "Spade's got a shipment of arms coming in next Tuesday," she said. "The Queens harbor."

Slim nodded, tapping a large finger on the table. "Good, that's good. But Spade ain't dumb enough to be there at the docks and accept a bunch of guns open-armed. We got to follow the guns to him."

Olivia rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. "What, you think I was born yesterday, Slim, give me some credit. I'll follow the shipment, and will get it all on camera. No worries. Johnny will have proof that Spade's behind the illegal shipment."

"I can get you some backup NYPD enforcement in Queens if you need it."

"You think they'll let me borrow an unmarked car with a radio?"

"I can arrange that," he said with a nod. "I can't promise the car won't be a piece of shit," he said with a laugh. "Queens precinct ain't got shit for money these days."

Olivia nodded. "Then I'll count on it. I can radio them a location when Spade's made contact, and they can take it from there." She sighed. Despite her entire operation, she knew it wouldn't lead to any substantive decrease in crime. She wasn't sure her job ever did. "You're fully aware that Spade's got the DA in his back pocket, right? He won't be off the streets for very long."

"That ain't what I heard," Slim said, shaking his head and smiling as the waitress sat down a plate of steaming food in front of him. He waited until she was well out of ear shot before leaning over towards Olivia. "I heard the DA and Spade ain't as friendly as they used to be. DA's son is cutting ties left and right, trying to shake things up. I just think he wants to unseat his old man, and he's pleasing the political crowd. Still, Spade ain't happy."

"And how do you know all this?"

"Well, seeing as how you ain't paying me, I don't have to tell you how I know it," Slim said with a smirk as he munched into his calzone, cheese oozing out of the end of it.

"Well, well, look who's here," said a voice from above them, and Olivia glanced up, surprised to see Nicky Burns staring down at the two of them with his bony arms crossed over his chest. Her eyes darted over to Slim, who seemed just as surprised to see his colleague hovering over them. The big man stiffened, the tough black hairs on his arm bristling. "What are you doing here, Nicky? Ain't you supposed to be someplace?"

"No place but right here," the thinner man answered, running a hand over his mustache and taking a seat next to Slim. He waved over the waitress, giving her a wide smile that didn't seem to move her at all. "Let me get a coffee, doll."

Slim rolled his eyes, taking another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it, careful to let the smoke blow right towards his colleague's face. He didn't bother furthering the conversation, and Olivia wondered whether he even remembered the initial lie they fed to Nicky when she was hired. She had to sift quickly through her memory to even remember it herself.

"How you looking on those Rattlers?" Nicky asked, thwarting her out of her thoughts. Clearly he hadn't forgotten the faux reason Johnny had hired her. "You got something on them you can feed to NYPD?" She noticed a suspicious glint in his eye, but chalked it up to the natural selection of merely being a gangster.

"I've turned over a few things to the police, yeah," she answered, not bothering to dart a look at Slim, who she knew was eyeing her with careful gravitas. "Not enough to warrant Dino's arrest, but enough to scare him away from the Luckys' docks, at least."

Nicky nodded, winking at the waitress as she set his coffee down in front of him. She was still unamused, walking away with a frown. "Good," he said, pulling out his own flask and dashing a splash of alcohol into it. "Can't ever be too careful in these parts. There's always someone trying to get the best of you."

"Ain't that the truth," Slim said, puffing another smoke towards Nicky. Olivia rolled her eyes at the testosterone-fueled tension that wafted over the table, almost as thick as the cigarette smoke itself.

"I'm curious, though," Nicky continued, taking a sip of his spiked drink. "Why ol' Johnny hasn't turned his sights onto the Rabbits. Seems to me Jack Spade's the one he should be worried about." He glanced pointedly at Olivia.

She didn't dare look over at Slim, not while Nicky's gaze burned into her, and she merely shrugged, challenging him. "I don't investigate what I'm not asked to," she said, turning her attention toward the bottle of Coca-Cola that sat in front of her, condensation beading off the bottle, a reminder of the own sweat that was starting to collect on her brow.

Nicky hit Slim squarely on the shoulder. "What you think, Slim?" he asked. "Think Johnny ought to look into it? I mean, that's your job, right? To take care of Johnny? Make sure nothing gets the best of him?"

Slim moved quickly despite his size, his chair toppling behind him as he stood, bringing Nicky up with him by his collar. "You little piece of shit," he said, his voice booming over the sidewalk. "You think you can make a fool of Johnny and the rest of us?" His fist pummeled into the side of Nicky's face, the sound of the crack halting the several lunch conversations around them as patrons moved quickly from their seats, punctuating the violence with a few feminine shrieks.

Olivia was on her feet in a second, pulling Slim's arm and attempting to relieve his grip on the wiry man, who was now balancing on the tips of his toes in an attempt to alleviate the pressure on his neck. Slim's arm swung out at her, catching her squarely in the jaw, not hard, but enough that she tasted blood in her mouth. She saw Nicky kick out, catching Slim in the shins, and she made a move for him instead, but felt someone catch her arm, a fist shooting quickly into her stomach and causing blackness to flash in front of her. She straightened, swinging back, knowing it was more than likely not a good idea, but by then chaos had already erupted, and she slipped into it, ready for a fight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is one of my least read stories, but one of my most favorite to work on, which is why it took so long to get this update just right. So, thank you so much to those of you who have read and shared your thoughts. It means a ton! And thanks to Jazz, who kicked my muse back into gear. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Olivia pressed a tentative hand to her brow, wincing at what felt like a small mountain affixed at the corner of her eye. Her stomach wasn't feeling much better and she was more than sure that one of Nicky's lackeys had bruised a rib or two. Looking around at her current surroundings, she figured her injuries were the least of her worries. The holding cell wasn't large, and judging by the fact that it was a Monday afternoon, wasn't crowded. So far, Olivia had avoided making eye contact with the lone woman who sat along a far bench, leaning drunkenly against the bile-colored wall.

What the hell was taking so long? She had been fingerprinted and processed over an hour ago, or so she thought. She had no way of knowing. Two beat cops had broken up the fight, neither of them hesitating to make use of their batons in order to do so. She had been cuffed and sat along the curb with the rest of their motley crue of adversaries, all of them nursing their injuries in a pathetic line until the police van arrived. The bumps and potholes to the precinct had been especially unkind as she tried to keep her head tilted back to stop the flow of blood from her nose. One look at Slim, Nicky, and the two flunkies, whose small size contradicted the power of their street-trained fists, had proven that none of them had faired very well in the tussle. At the precinct, she had been ushered in the opposite direction as the rest of them, and she welcomed the quiet of the women's cell.

"Your ol' man do that to you?" asked the woman across from her, who had been studying her for some time. Her voice was warbly, as if it hadn't been used in awhile, and Olivia guessed she was more than likely feigning for a smoke or a drink or whatever vice had gotten her in jail in the first place.

"No," Olivia replied, tersely enough to cut off any further conversation.

"It looks like somebody beat the shit out of you."

"It would appear that way, yes." Clearly the finer cues of social acumen were lost, or simply flat out ignored in the bareness of a jail cell. She widened her good eye towards the woman. "How long have you been here?" she asked, hoping the woman's answer would give some clue to her own timeline.

"Since last night," she said. "Set my husband's clothes on fire out in the back alley." She cupped her ear towards a faint buzz coming through the double doors at the far end of the hallway. "Hear that? That's the dispatch bell. Rings every two hours to mark the change in shifts."

It was the first Olivia had heard it, which meant it hadn't been long since she'd made her one, treasured phone call. She had tried Elliot first, and almost ripped the phone from the wall when he didn't answer his office line. The processing cads hadn't given her much help, and had only allowed her a second phone call after a few heckling comments that still set her neck on fire. She had called the only other person with the means to post bail, but it had sucked every ounce of pride from her. She heard the sound of a door opening, then the identifiable sound of heeled shoes clicking along the cement floor.

"Anyone ever tell you that fighting isn't very ladylike?" Nan asked as she came to a stop in front of the cell bars, a blue-uniformed officer stopping just behind her. Her tone may have been jovial, but her green eyes were troubled. Judging by the pair of elegant gloves she held in one hand, and the navy hat perched atop her auburn hair, she had been pulled away from something important.

"That was never a winning argument with me," Olivia replied, rising slowly to her feet, sucking in air as the pain hit her, and glanced over at her cellmate. "My ol' man," she said with a grin as she nodded towards Nan, whose terse expression said she was less than amused.

"I wouldn't get up yet, if I were you." The redhead darted a quick glance over her shoulder at the officer, worry creasing her forehead as she leaned into the bars, lowering her voice. "No bail's been set," she said.

Olivia's good eye narrowed. "What? Why the hell not?" she asked, her voice rising.

"I don't know," Nan answered. "I reached Elliot, he's working on his Chief. Who the hell have you pissed off around here lately?"

"With my track record? Probably the whole fucking city."

"No surprise there," Nan replied. "I told you to stick with housewives and cheating husbands."

"You want to lecture me now?" Olivia asked, feeling the pain in her temple grow from an external pain to an internal ache.

"Maybe you'll listen to me while you're behind bars," Nan retorted. She glanced back over her shoulder, giving the guard a warm, feigned smile, which quickly faded as she turned back to the cell. "I called Alex at your office. You said her father used to be the DA, so I figured she may still be able to pull some strings. With my name in the papers, I didn't think I'd be much help."

Alex's connection suddenly buzzed into her brain, and Olivia remembered the one person she'd pissed off that had not only access to the right judges, but also had what seemed like a dangerous hold over her assistant. "Shit," she said, pounding the bars with an open palm.

"What?" Nan pressed. "She doesn't have any connections there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she's got connections. Just not the kind I want her using."

* * *

><p>Alex stormed through the wide hallways of the District Attorney's office, her heeled shoes carrying her briskly past a maze of desks, where women's coiffed heads were bent over typewriters and manila folders. She passed by a larger, vacant desk that acted as a formal barrier to a small interior hallway. A series of nameplates alongside each door identified the assistant district attorneys, most of which were crammed three into an office. She wasn't surprised to see Robert's name listed alone, and she raised her fist to the frosted glass door.<p>

It swung open after a moment, revealing a middle-aged woman with short, blonde hair that was now feathered with gray. Her eyes, the color of raisins, were hidden behind a pair of rimless spectacles, but locked onto Alex with such ferocity that the blonde took a step back. The thin woman yanked her glasses off, revealing a sharp, bird-like nose, her gaze still piercingly pertinent. She finally managed a quiet greeting before Robert was behind her, his eyes honing wolfishly over her head towards Alex.

"Make sure those are filed by end of business today," he said, milking every ounce of authority from his voice. "And clear my calendar for the rest of the afternoon."

The woman, who Alex assumed was the assistant who normally occupied the empty desk she had passed, nodded tersely. "Yes, Mr. Thorne," she muttered before squeezing past Alex with a last, lingering look.

"Alexandra," Robert smiled. "I expected you, but not this soon." He gestured her inside, and she scowled at the feeling of his hand on her back as he guided her into the office.

She took in the bookcase of law volumes, texts that she would have devoured, but which probably got little use from her stepbrother, who more than likely left the real legal work to his assistants. She heard the click of the door and turned to face him, but he was already bearing down on her, his eyes flashing towards the purse that she carried.

"Are you toting a wire?"

"What?" she asked, shaking her head. "No." But he snatched her bag, dumping its contents onto his desk and fishing through them. "Robert." She followed him, attempting to halt his frenzied search, but he turned, his hands quickly frisking up her torso, ruffling her shirt as she flailed against him, her back hitting the bookcase. His rough hands touched her skin, unperturbed by her resistance until he was fully satisfied that she was clean.

"Can't be too careful these days," he said, watching as she tucked her blouse back into her skirt and refastened several buttons.

She was annoyed at her fingers, which shook despite her will as she collected her things back in her purse. "You have no right to hold Detective Benson without remand," she said, launching easily into the legal jargon that she had immersed herself in during law school, the familiarity of it steadying her hands.

He looked down at her, unconcerned. "Aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, carrying a weapon without proper permit, disrupting the peace," he said. "I can hold her overnight if I choose to."

"I'll go over your head," Alex said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't own this city. I made a lot more friends than you did while I was in law school."

He laughed, walking behind his desk, as if added to his authority. "Then by all means, my dear sister, use them. But remember, I own the circles that matter. The ones with the sharks. Those are the ones you and your precious detective should be worried about." He motioned towards one of the leather-covered chairs that sat in front of his desk, gold cufflinks glinting at his wrists. "Sit. If you want to talk business, then let's get to it."

She stared down at him, not giving him the pleasure of following his command. "How did you get this office?" she asked. "Was it because good ol' Sam Thorne is your father or was it because none of the other ADAs wanted to be in the same room with you?" She could tell by the thin line of his lips that her comment stung. "Just wondering," she said as she sat, content that she had just taken a little of his power.

"Speaking of father," Robert said, clasping his hands across his taut stomach as he leaned back in his chair. "He tells me that he ran into you at Jack Spade's soiree." He pressed his index fingers against his lower lip in mock thought. "Now why in the world would you be partaking in such a lavish affair?"

Alex had figured her stepfather would disclose the information to Robert, but now she wanted to know why he seemed so threatened by her presence at the party. "Why would you care?" she challenged him.

"If I'm not mistaken, you want something from me," he replied evenly. "I suggest you start acting like it, otherwise Detective Benson won't see the outside of a jail cell for some time. We have quite a backlog of cases in the Manhattan County court system."

"Drop the charges," she said, knowing that her request wouldn't be met so easily.

"And tell me why I would do that," he said. "So that your detective can start tailing Jack Spade again?"

"It seems like it would be in the best interest of the District Attorney's Office to assist in any investigation of one of the biggest crime bosses in New York," Alex said. "Unless, of course, the DA had something to hide."

"The DA is pursuing its own investigation with the New York Police Department," Robert answered. "Any outside inquiries would only hinder our efforts. I'm asking you to cease and desist in your little operation. After all, mixing with these crowds can be quite dangerous."

Alex laughed, knowing that her lack of fear would only rankle him. "You're bluffing."

"And why would you think that?" he asked, testing her. His eyes, normally so confident, showed a flicker of curiosity, and she knew she had to use that to her advantage.

"Because our 'little operation' has uncovered ties to this office," she said, working the bluff through her mind as the words were left her lips. "Ties that I'm more than prepared to go public with." She leaned into him. "If I take down Sam Thorne, I take you down with him," she pressed, hoping her sheer will was enough to sell the lie. She and Olivia didn't have anything until they caught Spade at the docks. And even then, they didn't have anything directly tying him to the DA's office.

Robert seemed impressed, even if he didn't believe her. He plucked several file folders from a pile and rounded his desk, propping himself leisurely against it. "Why don't we play this out," he said, tossing her the first folder. "This is an open investigation into Nan Vernon and her questionable business practices."

"Birdie's is an establishment that operates within the confines of the law – " Alex began, but was cut off by another folder being tossed towards her.

"This one is an open investigation into Elliot Stabler and inflated arrest records he filed last year." He tossed the last one towards her, and a black and white picture of Olivia stared up at her. "And last but not least," he continued, "an investigation into the mob ties of Detective Benson, Private Eye." He crossed his arms over his chest, pleased, as he awaited her response.

"These are all entirely fabricated," she said slowly, looking up at him, and knowing that her lifeline was growing thinner.

"And that would be… your word against the District Attorney's office and the NYPD?" he asked innocently. "I wonder which would be given more weight by a judge?"

She tossed the files onto his desk and stood, her heels giving her added height. "You wouldn't have bothered holding Olivia unless you were threatened," she said. "Which means that I have something you want. Now what is it?"

They stared intensely at each other, neither of them blinking. Finally, Robert spoke, his voice venomous. "I saw you lead her up to your room." His eyes darkened. "This isn't about justice," he said, his words breathing towards her. "You are simply desperate to be loved. To be needed. You always have been. That's why you let anyone touch you." His hand drifted towards her, but she pushed it away. He moved rapidly – he always had – and his fingers were suddenly locked around her forearm.

"Let go or I will scream," she said, her voice so low it sounded foreign to her.

He pushed her, his weight forcing her back into the chair, and she fell into it, leaning as far away from him as possible as he smirked at her. "Did you scream for her?" he hissed. He jerked her hand towards the crotch of his pants. She let out a low growl as his mouth came closer to her own, and she strained against his grip until her hand wrenched away from him. She kicked her leg, hard, making direct contact with the place where he had just forced her hand.

The strained, breathless gurgle that choked out of his throat was almost comical as he slid down her, kneeling as he cupped himself, his face turning a purplish red. She sat, suddenly paralyzed, by both fear and shame, each feeding off of each other in a struggle that kept her unable to move.

"You bitch," he managed, struggling to one knee, but getting no further.

She found her own voice, pulling it from her throat as she rose, her legs feeling disconnected from her body. "I want you to release Olivia," she said. "Now."

He managed to chuckle through his own heaving breaths, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "I want you to halt your job on Jack Spade," he countered. "Or I promise you that I won't hesitate to destroy everyone in your life." He rose, his eyes meeting hers. "I think you know all too well that I am more than capable of it."

"Make the call," she said, ignoring him, attributing the burn behind her eyes to anger rather than fear. She reached over for his telephone, but he swatted her hand away, suddenly protective of his throne. He picked it up of his own accord, his body morphing quickly back into his confident repose as he smiled over at her, giving her a wink.

"Hey, McAllister, ADA Thorne. Drop the charges on Benson. She's free to go." He dropped the phone back on its receiver. "Always a pleasure, Alexandra," he said, gesturing towards the door.

As she walked away from him, her back rigid, she let out an inaudible sigh of relief. She wasn't yet sure how she would convince Olivia to give up the tail on Jack Spade, or if she even wanted to try. Despite the way things had gone with Robert, she couldn't help but feel that he got the best of her. She would never win by playing his games. He had no conscience.

* * *

><p>Olivia loped slowly down the bare hallway, gingerly pulling her coat over shoulders and tucking her gun back in its rightful place inside her holster. She had lost her hat sometime during the scuffle, and ran a self-conscious hand through her mussed hair, which she was sure smelled of sweat. She entered the waiting room of the precinct, which was now bustling.<p>

Through her unswollen eye she saw Nan leaning stoically against the wall, her arms clasped in front of her as she watched the scene unfolding around her with a practiced, concentrated eye. Alex stood next to her, one hand across her hip, the other nervously fiddling with a strand of hair. She seemed to sense Olivia's presence, her head snapping up immediately, and she moved towards her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, reaching tentatively towards her. Nan strode up behind her, and Olivia quickly put her hands up, fending off the concerned looks from the two of them. The last thing she needed was two overwhelmingly worried former lovers looking after her.

"I'm fine," she said as she continued towards the exit, more than ready to breathe in air that didn't smell like sweat and toilet water. She was more than aware that her battered state belied her words, and one look at Alex, whose blue eyes were running over her battered appearance, confirmed it. "I don't know what you did, but thank you," she said by way of distraction, giving the blonde an appreciative smile.

"Don't mention it," Alex said quickly, her shoulders stiffening.

The three of them stopped outside, Nan and Alex pretending not to notice Olivia's slow gait down the cement stairs that lead to the sidewalk. "I just want to get home," she sighed, giving them a reassuring nod. "A little rest, I'll be fine. Nan, you mind giving us both a lift?"

Nan glanced over at Alex, giving her a smile. "I take it you can handle it from here?" she asked, and Alex nodded, fishing a set of keys out of her purse.

Olivia knew those keys, and glanced down the block, where, sure enough, her car was parked alongside the curb. "You drove my car?" she asked protectively.

"You left your keys," Alex said.

"Right. Thanks," Olivia replied, reaching out an impatient hand for the car keys, but Alex jerked them away, her face aghast.

"You're not driving with one eye," she said.

Olivia scoffed. "Come on, it's Manhattan. No one will know the difference." She saw the blonde set her lips in a determined line, a familiar occurrence, and knew she would have a hell of a time pleading her case.

Nan seemed more than amused by their interplay, and leaned over, giving Olivia's shoulder a firm pat. "Behave," she mouthed, before turning back to the blonde. "Ms. Cabot, I expect to see you under better circumstances next time." She leaned over and gave Alex a cordial kiss on the cheek, a habit that she picked up in Paris and had refused to give up, despite Olivia's constant teasing. She stepped to the curb and, with an effortless wave of her hand, hailed a cab and slid inside, vanishing in a flash of yellow.

"Let's get you home," Alex said, dangling the keys in her hand as she headed towards the driver's seat. She glanced over the roof of the car at Olivia, who hadn't yet moved. "I will not destroy your beloved automobile," she said with a small laugh.

"It's a 1940 Plymouth Deluxe. It is not just an automobile." But, Olivia wasn't in much of a position to argue, and seeing as how her rib hurt just by the mere act of standing, she decided to chance the blonde's driving skills, if only for a chance to sit.

Alex shook her head as Olivia made her way reluctantly towards the car. "You're a piece of work," she said, then cocked her head, adjusting her words. "A bloody piece of work."

"Oh yeah," Olivia said, easing delicately into her seat as Alex slid in behind the wheel. "Then what does that make you? After all, you work for me," she said with a faint smile.

Alex looked over at her as she started the car, her blue eyes suddenly thoughtful. "I don't know what that makes me," she replied. She blinked away her uncertainty, concentrating on the traffic around them. "Want to tell me where you live?" she asked. "I haven't had the chance to follow you home, so I'm not sure where we're headed."

Olivia was sure the dig was meant in jest, but she still copped to some embarrassment at tailing her own assistant. Her pride was surely taking a beating today, from all fronts. "Below the Italian district," she answered. "Head west towards 14th."

"That's not far," Alex said as she waited for a car to pass before pulling away from the curb. "So why do you treat your office like an apartment?"

Olivia kept her head angled out of her window, staring into her rearview mirror as a black Oldesmobile pulled into traffic behind them. She began to quip back a response, but kept her attention on the side view mirror as the car rounded turned along with them. After the car appeared once again in her mirror after another turn, she began to feel a prickling along the back of her neck.

"Take a left up here, will you, and pull over outside that drug store." Noticing the blonde's worried glance, she put her at ease. "I just want to grab some aspirin," she explained, although she had a full bottle of it at home. The black Oldesmobile pulled to a stop a few meters down, idling.

"Let me run in and get it for you," Alex offered, already swinging the car door open before Olivia could protest, walking briskly into the storefront.

The detective kept her eyes on their tail, but no one got out of the car. "Novices," she muttered. If she had been able to discern them with one swollen eye, she almost felt sorry for whichever mob was paying them to do such shoddy work.

Only a few moments passed before Alex returned, carrying a small paper bag that she handed over to Olivia. "It wouldn't hurt to take a couple now," she said.

Olivia's eyes were glued to the mirror outside her window. "Why don't I drive the rest of the way." It wasn't a request, but the blonde started the engine with a roll of her eyes.

"No," she said, putting the car into gear, but Olivia reached over, stopping her hand.

"Alex, listen to me," she said. "I think we're being followed." She preempted the blonde's next movement with a harsh shake of her head. "Don't look back," she directed. "I just need you to do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it, with no questions asked, got it?"

Alex nodded anxiously, her eyes now locked onto the windshield. "Okay," she managed, putting the car carefully into gear.

"Go to the next intersection and take a right," Olivia said, returning her attention to the side view mirror as Alex eased them back into traffic. Just as expected, the black car made a right as well, now two cars behind them, but still in sight. "When you get to 7th," she continued, "take another right." The sun was setting fast, making it harder to identify the dark-colored car, but when they made the next turn, she caught it under the glow of the street lamps, still steadily tailing them.

"This isn't so bad," Alex said, but the whites of her knuckles as she clenched the steering wheel said otherwise.

"Take a left at the next intersection." They were only a few yards away, and as the light turned yellow, Olivia felt the blonde's hesitation as they slowed for a split second. "Take the light, Alex," she said urgently. "Run it."

Alex's heeled foot pressed hard against the gas and they jutted out into the intersection with a squeal of tires, barely missing oncoming traffic and eliciting the sound of several admonishing car horns. Olivia turned, catching sight of the Oldesmobile, which was stuck idling at the red light, and she couldn't help but smile as she turned back in her seat.

Alex, however, didn't seem as pleased by the adrenaline coursing through her system. "Was that necessary?" she asked.

"Take a right into this outlet," Olivia said by way of answer. "Park behind that dumpster ahead, cut the motor and kill the lights. We don't want company."

Alex maneuvered the car behind a mammoth dumpster and Olivia turned, keeping her eye on the darkening street behind them as they were plunged into silent blackness. She rolled her window down slightly, enough to hear the sounds of the street. A pair of headlights shone ahead, and the sound of a loud, rattling motor infiltrated the small space of the car as it continued down the main route. Alex let out a sigh of relief, her hands finally abdicating the wheel.

"That wasn't the car," Olivia said, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Too loud. Oldesmobiles purr, they don't growl."

"Good to know," Alex replied, but her voice was palpable with tension, and she kept her hand hovering near the ignition.

"Just sit tight," Olivia said, keeping her eyes hardened towards the road, but reaching over and giving the blonde's hand a quick squeeze.

A second pair of headlights crept over the street, their strobe trawling much slower than the previous car's, and Olivia held her breath, her pulse quickening in her throat.

"Is that a purr," Alex breathed, almost inaudibly, but her words caught in her throat as the car stopped briefly at the entrance of the alleyway. Olivia kept her hand wrapped tightly around Alex, both as a small measure of comfort, but mostly to prevent the blonde from preemptively starting the engine out of sheer nerves. The car stayed put for another moment before moving past the alley, its lights finally disappearing as it continued down the street, its motor fading into the distance.

Olivia let out a deep, grateful breath, despite the sharp pain in her ribs, and quickly let go of Alex's hand. The blonde didn't seem to think anything of the prolonged touch, but still sat rigidly in her seat, not making a move to start the car.

"We're clear," Olivia said. "Nice job, Alex. Let's get out of here."

"What if they're still out there? What if they're waiting for us just like we waited for them?"

Olivia flicked on the lights, flooding the interior of the car with a moonish glow, forcing her assistant to look over at her. "Rule number one," she began. "Play it safe two-thirds of the time. The rest of the time, take risks."

Alex eventually nodded, finally starting the car and pulling slowly out of the far end of the outlet, which was narrow, but navigable. As they pulled back out onto a main avenue, she glanced over at the detective with an inquisitive brow. "I'm guessing we're not headed home anymore," she said.

As much as Olivia had looked forward to falling into her own bed, she couldn't be sure that whoever was ordering a tail on them didn't already have both of their apartments scoped. She looked over at Alex with as much of a carefree smile as she could muster. "How do you feel about the Hotel Chesterfield?"

The balding man behind the front desk didn't take too kindly to Olivia, which was more than understandable considering her disheveled appearance. She had avoided her reflection in the glass doors of the motel, preferring to preserve at least some shred of dignity until she at least got to the room.

"You two make an interesting pair," he observed, squinting towards them, a pair of seemingly forgotten glasses perched on top of his head. "You're quite a lucky guy."

Olivia raised an eyebrow at him, but judging by her suit jacket, trousers, and the state of her face, she wasn't altogether surprised by his faulty assumption. She just hoped he didn't discover his abandoned spectacles before offering them a room. The less questions she had to answer, the better.

Alex stepped forward, adjusting her blouse and giving him a placating smile. "You'll have to excuse my husband's appearance," she said quietly, leaning towards him. "He hasn't been the same since he was discharged." She tapped a finger against her skull. "Brain damage. Ever since, it's been nothing but drinking and street scuffles. We're just passing through on our way to Pilgrim Hospital."

Olivia sent a searing glare towards her, but the blonde was unbothered by it, continuing her pitiable charade with a valiant smile. Whatever she said, which, thankfully, the detective couldn't hear, seemed to work, and the man handed over a key, giving Alex an empathetic pat on the hand. As the two made their way toward the elevator bank, he gave Olivia a valiant salute, which she reluctantly returned, her face fully flushed with embarrassment.

"A war veteran?" she asked as they lurched towards their floor. "Do you know how much bad karma is coming my way thanks to you?"

Alex glanced over at her. "Look at you," she said. "I work with what I'm given."

The room was small, but tidy and clean. Alex stood in the center, staring at the lone double bed. "I'm going to order some food," she sighed, and Olivia gave her an approving nod as she took her first look at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her approval quickly faded into dismay as she took in her swollen eye and bloodied nose, and she cringed as she pressed a hand against the sensitive flesh.

Alex walked up behind her, toting the paper bag from the drug store. "I got some alcohol and cotton, too," she said, appraising the detective's injuries under the unforgiving light of the bathroom. "You were favoring your right side," she said, reaching out a tentative hand toward the brunette's side. "Are you breathing all right?"

Olivia inhaled and exhaled, taking some comfort in the blonde's attention, and knowing that she probably shouldn't. "Yeah," she replied. "Just a little bruising, that's all."

Alex nodded. "I'll get some ice, which will help with the swelling." She held up the bag. "And some salts for a warm bath, but save them for later, once the swelling goes down. They didn't have any bandages, but as long as you keep somewhat still you'll be fine."

Olivia stared up at her curiously. "How's a girl from the Upper West Side know so much about this kind of stuff?" she asked with a teasing smile. "You sure you didn't go to nursing school instead of law school?"

Alex averted her gaze, staring down into the bag, but didn't offer up a response. "I'm going to go get the ice," she said, moving back towards the main room, sliding quickly out the door.

After a rewarding shower, Olivia pulled her trousers back on, but left her dress shirt and suspenders behind, opting for only her simple cotton t-shirt. She had slept in even more formal attire plenty of times after many a drunken argument with Nan after a gala or event. As long as she had a bed, she was happy.

The smell of food from the room reminded her of just how hungry she was, and she found Alex unveiling two bowls of soup. "I hope this is okay," she said. "There weren't many options."

"It's perfect," Olivia said, walking slowly towards her and taking a seat at the small, round table, where a bucket of ice sat waiting for her. Alex seemed just as ravenous, and the two ate in silence, until their spoons finally clinked against empty bowls. Olivia finished her meal off with a couple of aspirin and a long, cool swig of water.

Leaning back in her chair with a hand pressed against her aching ribs, Olivia finally asked the question that she had avoided all evening. "What did you promise him?"

Alex looked up, seemingly surprised, but she had to have known the question was coming. When she didn't respond right away, Olivia continued. "Robert Thorne was behind this, I know he was. I want to know why, and I want to know how you managed to convince him to drop the charges."

Alex pushed her bowl away from her, wiping her mouth daintily with the paper napkin. "He's my stepbrother. I know how to push his buttons."

Olivia shook her head. "That's not good enough, Alex."

The blonde ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture that didn't go with her practiced formality. "He wants us to drop what we have on Jack Spade."

Olivia chuckled. "Well, I'm not working for him. That's a non-starter."

"I think you should think about it," Alex replied, her finger tracing the edge of her bowl.

"Robert Thorne doesn't scare me," Olivia said. She leaned forward, catching the blonde's vacant gaze. "But are you going to tell me why he scares you?"

The words caused Alex's head to snap up, and the blue eyes were defensive. "He doesn't scare me," she insisted, but her voice was hard, an audible reminder of just how much she guarded her secrets. She stood, stacking both of their bowls. "You should put some ice on your eye," she said, effectively cutting off any further conversation on the topic. Seeing as how her assistant was probably just as exhausted as she was, Olivia let the matter rest, at least until morning.

She took the washcloth that Alex was filling with ice. "I can handle it," she said as her assistant sat back down, watching her curiously as she ambled her way slowly over to the bed.

"You don't like to be taken care of, do you?" Alex asked.

"I don't need to be taken care of," she replied, easing down onto the bed. She reached over for the ice, and winced as she caught sight of it. Across the room, sitting on the table where she'd left it. Alex's eyes rested gleefully on it.

"You forgot your ice," she said with a smile.

"I see that," Olivia replied, already propping herself back up, and mustering her energy for the slow walk back to the table.

"Oh for crying out loud," Alex said as she stood, grabbing the ice and walking over to her, pushing her back down onto the pillow with a gentle hand. She pulled the detective's white t-shirt up, revealing her stomach, which had morphed from its normal olive tone to a purple and blue mess, and set the ice gently on the marred flesh. Olivia hissed at the coldness, trying to keep from breathing too deeply.

"Better?" Alex asked, leaning over and delicately placing the smaller bundle of ice against the brunette's eye.

Olivia reached up, holding the coldness to her head, her fingers grazing the blonde's smooth skin. "A little," she replied.

"Wait until the aspirin kicks in," Alex said with a smile as she straightened. "I'm going to shower."

Olivia swallowed, unable to prevent the blonde's words from conjuring an image – an inappropriate one at that – in her mind. "Uh huh," she managed, angling her head away from the bathroom, needing no additional means for temptation. The sound of the water lulled her into a peaceful half-sleep, which was only interrupted by the sound of Alex padding back across the carpet. Olivia opened her good eye, which widened as she caught sight of the thin, white knee-length slip the younger woman was now wearing, having abandoned her dress and belt. She managed to control her gawking as Alex peered down at her.

"Want me to get rid of that ice?" she asked, moving closer.

"Uh huh," Olivia murmured, wishing she had both eyes in order to fully appreciate the woman bending toward her. Alex caught her gaze, and gave her an amused smile.

"You can pop that good eye back in your head, Detective. Remember our agreement."

"In all fairness, we did make that agreement under the assumption that we would not be sleeping together at a hotel tonight," Olivia pointed out cordially.

"With all due respect," Alex replied, leaning dangerously close to the detective's lips as she plucked the bundle of ice from her brow, "I don't think you're up for it tonight." She grinned, walking back towards the bathroom and depositing the now melting ice into the sink. She returned, easing back underneath the sheets, leaving as much space as possible between them. The two lay in silence for a moment, each staring up at the ceiling, only the casual drift of murmuring voices through the thin walls penetrating the quiet.

"I like working with you," Alex said, breaking the stalemate. "This work, for what it's worth, is important to me. It's been a long time since I've filled my days with anything that felt worthwhile."

The numbness of the ice began to fade, and Olivia felt a slight pain radiate in her ribs, but the drugs coursing through her system kept it at a manageable level. "Alex, you won't be doing this for very long. That brain of yours is suited for much better things than this. You'll finish law school, and you'll go on to do something that does more than just fix petty problems."

The mattress shifted, and Alex turned towards her, propping herself on her elbow. "Why do you sell yourself short?" she asked, and her sudden seriousness surprised the detective. "You're honorable, smart - you couldn't run your own business this long if you weren't. You're strong, determined, you have more integrity than anyone I came across in law school. What is it that you can't let go of that won't allow you to see all that?"

The question ripped open a seam that had long been sewn shut, and for a moment the truth rose up inside Olivia, threatening to spill from her lips. She had shared it with no one, not Elliot, not even Nan, and had become so comfortable with her own lie that it had carved out its own hollowness inside her. She blinked over at Alex, feeling the heaviness behind her eyes, and blamed her weakness on the medication and the exhaustion. "How do you know all of that?"

Alex smiled. "I went with my gut. Took a risk."

Olivia felt lighter, even more so with the faint smile that outlined her face. "Kiss me," she said, not caring about their agreement, or about the ADA, or anything that existed beyond the confines of their rented room.

"No," Alex said, but her smile didn't completely disappear, and her blue eyes lightened with amusement. "I think that aspirin is kicking in," she said.

Olivia let out a murmured humph, but extended her arm towards the blonde. "Then just lay with me," she whispered, wanting the woman's enticing scent closer to her. Even through her drugged drowsiness, she saw Alex's internal struggle play out through the light nibble of her lower lip, the way her eyes flicked over towards the outstretched hand. Just as quickly, the indecision was extinguished, and she leaned over, nestling her head against Olivia's shoulder and letting her palm rest lightly against her side.

"Does this hurt?" she asked, her head tilting upwards.

"Not yet," Olivia replied, finally closing her eyes. She was sure the hurt would come eventually, once they were back in the real world, but for the moment, everything was fine.

* * *

><p><strong>Much faster update this time, no? See, reviews work :)<br>**  
><strong><strong><br>****


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Lips grazed playfully along Olivia's neck, pausing briefly to nip at her earlobe, and her limbs tingled with a paralytic current. Alex straddled her, settling on her pelvis, and her ribs didn't scream out in protest like she thought they would. Olivia credited the libidonous drift running through her for the lack of pain, and sighed in pleasure as Alex continued her soft assault on her neck. The blonde's white slip glowed as it moved against her skin, her nipples pressing against the translucent material. Olivia moved to slide the thin straps off her shoulders, but her hands seemed weighed down, keeping her helpless. She felt Alex inch her t-shirt up over her stomach, felt the plump lips nurse her bruised flesh. But when she glanced down, her skin was unmarred, her stomach healed. Puzzled, she arched into the blonde's lips, which were sliding up to her breasts. Then she felt the sharp, stabbing pain, and was lurched into darkness.

For the first few seconds of consciousness, she wasn't able to place her surroundings, but after a few moments, the hotel room sharpened, and so did her pain. She was sitting upright, a sheen of sweat cooling her skin. For a moment the dream persisted like a stubborn memory, and she wished like hell it had been. But the space next to her was empty, and so was the small bathroom tucked into the far corner of the room. Alex was nowhere, but an open newspaper lay fanned across the small table near the door, along with an abandoned cup of coffee.

Olivia cursed her luck, sifting through the more pleasurable parts of the dream, which wasn't helping the throb in her pelvis, when Alex slid into the room wearing her dress from the day before, a newly filled bucket of ice in her hand. "Morning," she said with a chipper smile, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that they had hidden out in a hotel room overnight. "I brought you some more ice. And coffee."

Olivia appreciated the gesture, but couldn't help grimacing at the sight of the dress, which now covered the slip she had pictured so perfectly in her dream. Not that she expected Alex to wander through the hotel in her undergarments, but Olivia couldn't help but wish that she had stayed in bed a little longer, the feel of that thin slip and the smell of her hair still imprinting themselves on her senses.

Alex's expression clouded as she walked closer to the bed, her gaze troubled. "Do you have a fever?" she asked, placing a concerned hand across Olivia's forehead.

Her touch only rekindled the dream, and as Alex's palm moved from her forehead to her cheek, and then down to her chest, Olivia imagined herself imploding from her unmet need. "I'm fine," she said quickly, grabbing the blonde's probing fingers.

"You're acting strange," Alex said, narrowing one eye, but she peered at Olivia's face with an almost clinical attention. "Your eye isn't so bad," she said, satisfied. "The swelling would have been worse without the ice." She turned back to the table, her dress unwrinkled, as if she had taken a hot iron to it. Olivia's own t-shirt was rumpled, riding above her navel during her dream, and she pulled it roughly down over her stomach. "I brought you a muffin," Alex continued as she sat at one of the straight-backed chairs at the table, the only other place to sit other than the bed. "You'll need something in your stomach."

"How long have you been gone?" Olivia asked wearily, swinging her feet to the floor. She had no idea how long she'd been wrapped up in the dream, but she hoped Alex hadn't been around to witness it.

"An hour, maybe. I've been up for a few hours."

Olivia whooshed out a sigh of relief and glanced at the clock against the wall. "Jesus, is that really what time it is? What have you been doing all morning?"

Alex's eyes floated over the bare hotel room. "Honestly, not much," she said with an earnest shrug of her shoulders that pulled a smile from deep inside Olivia. "I wandered around downstairs. Read the paper. Wandered around downstairs again" She laid two aspirin next to a small paper bag along with a glass of water. "Are you hungry?"

Olivia rose from the bed, testing her equilibrium, which was no worse than after a night of hard drinking. The pain in her ribs was palpable, but not unbearable. "I didn't think lawyers made such good caretakers," she asked, ambling towards the table.

The blue eyes looked towards her, suddenly self-conscious. "I'm not a lawyer."

Olivia shrugged. "Law student, then."

"I'm not a law stu – " she narrowed her eyes. "We have bigger problems right now than to parse my academic status."

"You're right," Olivia agreed, a certain levity lightening her chest. "You, for one, have to figure out how to get your veteran husband back to the psychiatric hospital with as little commotion as possible." She grinned, taking a bite of the muffin. It was nutty, not too sweet, which is exactly what her stomach needed.

Alex wasn't amused. "This isn't a joke, Olivia. Your cover has been blown."

"So you're saying he _doesn't_ believe I'm a war veteran." She knew she was pressing her luck, but there was something oddly enjoyable about riling Alex up. So far, her attempt at humor was doing just that. "Look, Alex, it was just a little fight that got out of hand. Nothing to worry about. Comes with the job."

"Do you always have a side of bravado with your breakfast?" Alex asked, leaning into the table. "This wasn't a little street tussle. Jack Spade knows you're looking into him."

Olivia leaned forward, matching Alex's pose, even though her ribs protested the movement. "You don't know that," she countered. "All you know is that Robert wanted you to think that."

"Oh, please, Olivia." Alex's mental wheels had clearly been turning all morning, and now that she had Olivia as a captive audience, she wasn't about to let up. "Then why did Nicky Burns start the fight anyway? He knew you were following him."

"Technically, Slim started the fight." She saw Alex inhale impatiently, but preempted her retort with a raised hand. "Let's say you're right. Let's say Nicky Burns knows I was hired to follow him. The real question is: how does he know?"

The blonde sidestepped the prompt. "Why can't you just let Johnny do this on his own? Let the mobsters go at it themselves."

Olivia had her own theories as to why she'd been hired, namely that Johnny was smart enough not to start an all-out mob war. If Spade thought he was being independently investigated, then there would be no retaliation. Of course, she didn't give a damn about Johnny's reasons. She cared about her own. The reasons he'd laid out for her plain and clear the first time she met with him. "I can't do that," she said quietly.

"Why not?"

She shrugged, not particularly wanting to lay out the real reasons, at least not before she'd downed her coffee. "I need the money."

"I know that's not true."

"And how can you be so sure it isn't?"

"Because I'm the one who does your books." Alex's expression softened. "And I know that there are many ways to be coerced into doing something. I don't think cold hard cash is the way Johnny Mack got your attention."

"So now you think you've got me all figured out, huh?" Olivia regretted the comment as the blue eyes hardened again. "Look, Alex, I can handle this."

"Do you have any idea what these people are capable of? Because I certainly do." Alex's voice tightened with bitterness, but rather than continue, she turned her attention to her paper. Their pause was pregnant enough to birth a small calf until the blonde finally punctured it with a soft request. "Eat your muffin."

Olivia slid half of it over to her as a small peace offering. Her ribs weren't exactly helping her mood. "Have some."

"No, I'm okay with coffee," Alex replied, keeping her eyes on the fine black and white print in front of her.

"Anything interesting in there?" Olivia asked, flicking the paper with her finger.

Alex peeked at her over the edge of it before lowering it and flipping a few pages back. "Actually, this was quite concerning." She fingered a small column along the left side of the page.

"Ahh, right. Nan," Olivia said. She popped the two aspirin, washing them down with most of the water. Nan had never taken investigations into her affairs well, and usually ended up making a bloody, public battle out of them, which Olivia had never thought was worth it. Not that Nan ever listened to her. "She'll be fine, the club will be fine. It's just something that comes with the job."

"Is that your response to everything?" Alex asked. "'It comes with the job'?"

Clearly, Alex never listened to her, either, which meant she was a glutton for punishment or she simply enjoyed a good challenge. This morning, however, the challenge was quickly turning into a headache. "You know what doesn't come with your job, Alex?" she said. "Telling me how to do mine."

Alex dropped the paper back onto the table. "If I'm not mistaken, you would be sitting in a jail cell right now if it weren't for me."

Olivia let out a sarcastic chuckle, which seemed to unleash a suspicion that she'd tried to keep at bay. "Who am I to say this isn't all part of the plan," she muttered.

Alex's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Funny, that my troubles with the ADA started when you showed up, isn't it?" she asked, the words bubbling from some uncertain place inside her, their truthfulness unsettling, even if she couldn't really believe them. Or didn't want to believe them.

Alex jerked as if she'd been slapped, but instead of anger, her eyes held quiet resignation. "I see," she said, standing slowly. "Let me ask you this, Olivia. This ridiculous paranoia?" she asked, pointing a pertinent finger at her. "Does that come with the job, too? What else comes with it? Loneliness? Living out of your office?" She spat the last words as she stalked past the table: "Fucking your secretary?"

Olivia caught Alex's arm above the elbow, shooting out of her chair, and they faced each other, a standoff heated by something much more than just anger. Olivia waited for Alex to jerk away, but when she didn't she pulled the blonde closer to her, and without a word, took her lips in a kiss that put her earlier dream to shame.

The grip she had on Alex's arm turned into a soft caress, brushing upwards, moving behind her neck and pulling her even closer. Alex's hands were less adept, more concerned with staying away from Olivia's ribs, but they found a comfortable place around her shoulders. They didn't stray from one another's lips, each nibble, each slow caress of a tongue returning them back to exploring each other's mouths. Only after breaking the kiss, both of their chests heaving as they recovered, did Alex place her hands against Olivia's chest, tracing the v-shaped lining of her t-shirt. It was a quiet gesture, but it changed the tone of their embrace from some misguided passion into something more reticent. And that was something neither of them were willing to confront.

Olivia took a step back, and Alex stayed slumped against the door, their meaningful moment broken by a sudden sense of awareness. "I don't live out of my office," Olivia said, scratching the back of her head. She didn't bother denying Alex's other accusations, but let her denial hang in the space between them.

"I hate Robert Thorne," Alex said, her voice so hateful it wasn't more than a whisper. "The only way I would help him is if it was into an early grave." She seemed surprised by her vehemence, and shook her head, as if ridding it from her body. "If you can't see that, then you're not as good a detective as I thought you were."

"Alex, I didn't mean what I said earlier," Olivia offered. What she should have said, should have confessed to, was that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about the blonde since she'd waltzed into her life. That timing had a way of bringing people together when they least expected it. But she didn't. Instead she let her weak apology stand, unsupported.

"I should take you home," Alex said. "I'll go into the office and check the messages. I'm sure Elliot or Nan is probably wondering where you are." She moved towards the back of the room, gathering the few items that had made it out of her purse during their brief stay.

Olivia's head had begun to throb, signaling the aspirin couldn't hold a candle to the headache she was bringing on herself. She had spent most of the night running through the case, her dealings with Johnny, Slim, and now Spade and Robert, but something wasn't adding up, and the best she could do would be to wait for someone to slip up. Lying low for a couple of days wouldn't hurt. And she was guessing, by the way she had just lost control, that it wouldn't hurt to put some physical distance between her and her assistant. She could still dream, at least.

* * *

><p>Alex sat at her desk several mornings later, unseasonable sunlight warming her back as it streamed through her window. Her head was bent towards a new contract, proofreading it intensely, despite the fact that her boss wasn't one to be bothered by a stray typo or grammatical error. Still, it was a longtime habit that law school had only further ingrained into her psyche.<p>

She hadn't suspected Olivia would stay away from work for too long, but her boss had surprised her by staying out of the office for a couple of days, only calling once or twice to ask about business. A couple of times she thought about offering to bring her a small dinner, but each time she bit back the offer, afraid that it was merely an excuse to see her. She had been surprised, and flustered, to see Olivia appear that morning in the office, her eye less swollen but still slightly yellow. After a brief, formal exchange, she was gone again, and Alex found herself left alone, filling up her boss' hours with appointments and clients, intent on keeping her away from Jack Spade and off Robert's radar.

A knock at the door caused her to dart a quick glance at her father's stopwatch, which she had kept on her desk ever since Olivia had restored her rightful ownership of it. She wasn't due back at the office for at least another hour, but that didn't mean Alex couldn't brief a client. She tucked her detective textbook out of sight, plastering a professional smile on her face. Glancing curiously towards the door, her mouth parted in surprise as she took in the short, feathered gray-blonde hair, the smart, equine nose and the clay-colored eyes of the woman that she had last seen outside Robert's office.

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she kept her recognition to herself. "Hello," she managed, standing, squeezing her pencil tightly in her hand, feeling it bend slightly with her grip. "Can I help you?"

The woman stood just inside the door, and for a moment Alex thought she might turn and leave. Instead, she stepped forward with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for disturbing you," she said, her voice gravelly. "I work for Robert Thorne. My name is Elizabeth Donnelly."

She extended her arm, and Alex dropped the pencil onto her desk, hoping that the rehearsal of manners would give some respite from her initial alarm. "Alex," she answered, offering nothing more. She could only assume Robert had sent her, which meant the less friendly she seemed, the better.

Elizabeth didn't immediately release her hand, and her brown eyes softened as she studied her, the brown eyes floating over her as if seeing a ghost. "You look just like him."

Alex's hand went limp and she pulled it quickly back to her side, clenching the fabric of her skirt in her fist. "What are you talking about?" she asked, suspicion inkling slowly up her spine.

The older woman shook her head, her lips pursing into a contrite line. "I'm sorry," she offered. "I've worked at the District Attorney's office for years. I was lead assistant for your father during his time there. You're his spitting image."

Alex felt as if she needed to sit, but her legs wouldn't bend, so she leaned against the desk, averting her eyes as she tunneled into her memory. She recognized the name, had heard it slip from her father's lips many times during those early mornings in his office. Liz. Every Christmas, she heard him labor over his holiday card to her, always lamenting with a chuckle the fact that it was the one letter that he couldn't rely on his assistant to write for him.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this," Liz said, pulling her attention back to the present. "After I saw you at the DA's office, I couldn't get you or your father out of my mind. I've been trying for a week to make it over here."

Alex looked back at her, studying the fine lines etched around the corners of her mouth, the hands that belied her age. "No, I'm sorry," she said, rounding the desk, forcing her body to work. "Can I take your coat? Or get you a coffee?"

Liz smiled at her, but shook her head. "No, thank you, I'm just on a lunch break. Your manners are just as impeccable as Bill's." She cocked her head and gestured towards the desk. "If I could take a moment of your time, I want to talk to you about your lawsuit against Samuel Thorne."

Alex's shoulders went rigid. "I don't wish to discuss that," she said tersely, fully prepared to revoke her invitation to sit.

Liz seemed undeterred by her reticence, and continued. "DA Thorne is under the impression that his reply brief was filed with a certain judge with whom he is quite friendly. Instead, I filed it with a judge that I know from my days working with your father. He's fair, respectable, and I expect that he will deliver a ruling in your favor."

Alex stood for a moment, letting the information sink in, and sat in the closest chair available, which she usually reserved for clients. There was no way an objective judge could rule against her, not after the blatant destruction of her mother's will, but any joy of a win was countered with suspicion. "Why would you help me?"

Liz chuckled, and took the seat next to her, holding her large purse in her lap. "I would hardly call it helping. Your brief was well-written, Alexandra. If it weren't for a friendly judge or two in DA Thorne's corner, you would already have back what is rightfully yours." She raised an eyebrow. "You went to law school, if I'm not mistaken, correct?"

Alex nodded. "For two years."

"Well, I hope you plan on finishing."

An ease fluttered through Alex, relaxing her muscles. "How long did you work for my father?"

Liz smiled proudly. "For ten years. I learned quite a bit from him." Her voice tightened, and she cleared her throat. "As such, I thought that I owed it to his memory to do what was right. He was one of the most honorable men I've ever known. Certainly the pool is not quite large at City Hall, but he was one of the best." She smiled at some unspoken memory.

Alex studied her face, and a thought flashed through her. "My father and you weren't – " her accusation came out jumbled, and she was embarrassed by the older woman's widening eyes.

"No – no, of course not," she said harshly. "Our relationship was strictly professional."

Alex dipped her head towards her lap, blushing. "Of course," she said, clearing her throat and changing the subject quickly. "You work for Robert as well as Sam now, I suppose?"

Liz sighed. "As soon as either of them find out which Judge will be ruling on your lawsuit, I more than likely won't be working for either of them. But yes, as of this moment I work for the DA and his assistant district attorneys."

"Did he send you here?"

"Heavens, no. I came of my own accord. I overheard him speak of Detective Benson after you left, and thought I might find you here."

"Has Robert said anything to you about Detective Benson? Or Jack Spade?"

"Is Detective Benson working on the Skid Row murders?"

"We've tried," Alex said. "But since the NYPD shut down their investigation, there hasn't been much Detective Benson can do. I happen to live in the neighborhood - " she blushed at the revelation, but continued - "and no one is talking."

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Robert said nothing about the investigation being shut down. He's been asking me to follow up with the detectives on the case every day. He even had me pull a few reports this morning."

Alex cocked her head at the new information, but surmised that Robert must be looking into things on behalf of Jack Spade. "Is he looking to make an arrest?"

"Certainly not. If I know anything about Robert, his inquiries are solely to connive a coverup. Samuel has done this before. Get the information from the police and slowly make it disappear until there's not a case left standing. Robert, however, this is new for him. I usually don't catch him lifting a finger at the office."

"Tell me about Robert's interactions with Jack Spade. Do they ever grab lunch, meet somewhere to your knowledge?"

Liz's eyes narrowed. "Alexandra, I see that glint in your eye, and it was the same one your father had. Don't let your principles cloud your judgment. In this city, that won't get you anywhere."

"I'm simply doing my job," Alex said, gesturing around her at the office. "That's all."

"I don't believe that," Liz said with a confident shake of her head. "Whatever brought you here, my dear, may not have been some grand design of your own, but it seems to me you're in the middle of something that has everything to do with your past. Don't search for answers that you already have."

"Did Jack Spade kill my father?" Alex had never asked the words out loud, but they came out stronger than she expected them to, and by the mere act of asking the question, she knew she had the answer.

Liz didn't drop her gaze, and didn't seem surprised by the question, as if it were one that she nursed in her own mind repeatedly. "There is not a trace of evidence tying Jack Spade to your father's accident," she said. "That said, there's no question, in my mind, that he had everything to do with his death."

"Do Samuel and Robert ever talk about him?" she asked.

"As I said before, Alexandra, I try to keep my eyes and ears shut when it comes to these matters."

"How can you? If my father taught you anything – "

"I think my time is up," Liz said quickly, rising from her seat, her pocketbook clutched nervously in her hand.

"No, no," Alex said, grabbing her wrist with a ferocity that surprised her. The brown eyes flashed at her in anger, but she didn't let go. "You didn't come here just to tell me about my own lawsuit. I know you didn't."

Liz wrenched her arm from Alex's grasp, but her eyes held only sympathy. "Robert is turning into more of a liability than Samuel had hoped," she replied quietly. "He's had a couple of run-ins with the police, most of them in Skid Row. A few episodes with a couple of women, all of which have been kept off the books, of course, thanks to his budding kinship with Mr. Spade."

"What do you know about any international relationships between Jack Spade and Nicky Burns?"

"Nicky Burns," Liz repeated. "Robert meets with him at least once a week. I don't know what about, but I know that he keeps it from his father."

"I need evidence," Alex said.

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Spoken like a true attorney. But we all know, evidence only gets you so far." A sudden coldness pooled in her eyes, sending a chill through Alex.

"I don't follow a criminal's moral code," she said, but the words were flat, unconvincing.

"There's no code," Liz said with a tired laugh as she headed toward the door. "They win, we lose." She stopped midstride, her hand going to her purse. "I almost forgot," she said, walking back over to the desk and handing over a small manila envelope. "I've had these in my desk for over ten years. I should have sent them to you earlier."

As Alex accepted the envelope, Liz clasped her hand with both of hers, giving it a somber shake. "My information is inside as well. I don't suspect our contact will end here."

Alex nodded, watching her walk towards the door. "Liz, wait," she said, scribbling something down on a piece of paper and rounding her desk. "I have an acquaintance who might be able to help you with another job, should you have any troubles. You can find her at this address. Just tell her that Olivia Benson sent you."

Liz stared down at the paper. "Birdie's," she said thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds frivolous." She smiled a terse smile, and was out the door.

Alex pressed her hand against the closed door, listening as Liz's footsteps descended the stairwell. She walked into Olivia's office, something she rarely did, keeping mostly to her the outer office, which she had personalized with what little trinkets she had since taking the job. Although there were no pictures gracing her boss' desk, and the bookshelves were mostly littered with files and novelties that she couldn't even begin to place, it still felt quintessentially Olivia. In its wholeness it held something comforting, something that refused to be analyzed or defined by its past.

Taking refuge in the old, worn-in cushions of the couch, she slipped her heels off and curled her feet beneath her. She fingered the envelope in her hand, and with a quick inhale, opened it up, letting a series of pictures fall into her lap. She filtered through them, slowly, fingering the frayed edges of some, the faded coloring in others. Some of them she recognized, but most of them she had never seen. Pictures of her father and mother when they were young, both smiling, her mother looking actually happy. One of her and her father, her seated on his shoulders, him smiling up at her, oblivious to the camera. She leaned her head back against the back of the couch, hoping the motion would stop the tears from coursing down her cheeks, but she felt them slide down the side of her head.

The day it happened had been like any other that spring. She and Aubrey had spent the afternoon at the nickel picture show, in the back row, holding hands discreetly, trading kisses in the stall of a bathroom, all awkward adolescent limbs. The two walked home, trading their requisite pinky embrace at the corner before parting ways, but that day Aubrey had pulled her in for a quick embrace, and she caught a sweet scent, like honey, in her hair. Her pulse had quickened, her secret slowly beating away inside her as she walked up the front steps.

Her mother's face surprised her, and for a moment she thought her secret with Aubrey had somehow been exposed. Usually she let herself inside, avoiding her mother, who spent her afternoons fanning herself on the back patio, and went straight to her room, waiting until her father came home before appearing for dinner. But that day, her mother was waiting for her at the door, and Alex remembered the distinct, swollen look of her face: smeared mascara, faded lipstick, splotchy cheeks. She couldn't remember the exact way her mother had told her, but she remembered dropping her schoolbooks on the polished floor, watching the pages flutter open as her mother wrapped a pair of clammy, damp hands around her shoulders. Her kiss with Aubrey should have faded into the background, but for some reason she kept thinking about it, confused by the idea that she would never have to decide whether or not to tell her father about it. The choice had been made for her.

She hadn't realized she had closed her eyes until she felt a steady hand shaking her. Her eyes flashed open, meeting Olivia's concerned gaze, and she veered upright, the pictures and the envelope sliding off her lap. "I'm sorry," she said, bending over to pick them up, but Olivia beat her to it, crouching and stacking them gently.

"Is this your mother and father?" she asked. She held up a picture of her mother, one that Alex didn't remember. Judging by her mother's bright, youthful smile, it had been taken some years before she was born. "That's some ring," Olivia said with a low, whistle, pointing towards the large ruby, encased with a swirl of gold.

"Mother always made sure to show off her jewelry. It embarrassed the hell out of my father, but he kept buying it for her."

"Smart man, in my book. Always give a woman what she wants. Some women want jewelry, others want shoes," she said with a smile, eyeing the nude heels that Alex wore.

She normally would quip back some smart retort, but instead Alex just managed a slight nod, hoping the conversation would end there, but by the feel of her heavy-lidded, swollen eyes, she knew it wouldn't.

"You okay?" Olivia asked, placing a comforting hand on her knee.

"An old colleague of my father's came by the office today," she replied softly, enjoying the comfort that her boss' touch brought. And once she had released those words, the dam opened, and she rehashed Liz's visit, wishing she had asked more questions, or demanded to meet the woman again. "Olivia," she said, glancing down at her hands. "You asked me when I started whether I was here to find out what happened to my father. But I've always known. Everyone's always known. And Jack Spade wakes up every day knowing that he's the reason my father is dead."

Olivia's hand squeezed her knee slightly. "Alex, I can't promise that Spade will ever be caught for what he did. But, I can promise you that justice doesn't always have to work on a quid pro quo basis. We can get Spade, and who knows, half the DA's office, if we follow up on this investigation. If I link that arms shipment to Spade, there's no way he won't be indicted for treason. There's not a lot of patience out there for traitors. Even New York officials know that's not good politics."

Alex felt a surge of promise as Olivia's words sank in, but she knew it wasn't enough. Not now, not when she held the pictures of the life that had been ripped from her in her hands. "I don't know if I want justice anymore," she said slowly. "I just want revenge." She looked away from her boss' gaze, which held such concern that it made her stomach flip, and she fumbled the white envelope on her lap. "I don't know when I turned into this shell of a person," she whispered.

"Alex, listen to me," Olivia said, the touch of her hand against Alex's own the only thing that forced her to look down at her. "You got a raw deal, that's all. You've done pretty well for yourself, considering, don't you think?" She gestured at her office. "I mean, you're working for a one-man private eye operation in the bowels of Manhattan. Who could do better than that?"

The sarcasm brought a laugh bubbling from her throat, relieving her of the heaviness that sat on her chest. "I'm going to reserve my answer to that one for fear of termination," she said with a smile.

Olivia patted her knees with a resolved tap. "Listen, why don't we close up for today. The sun hasn't shone like this in months, and I'm almost afraid the Fair Labor Practices group would lock me up or shut me down if they knew I was keeping you holed up in an office today."

Alex stared down at the woman, her short bangs brushing almost boyishly along her forehead, but her deep brown eyes startlingly doe-like, and she recalled the same feeling of kinship tinged with something exciting that recalled her kinship Aubrey so many years ago. "Okay," she said simply. "Okay." 

* * *

><p>Central Park was scattered with people taking advantage of surprisingly temperate weather while it lasted. It had been several months since the city had seen such unbridled sunshine, and it seemed to erase the normal scowls that usually plastered New Yorker's faces. Olivia was glad to see it had also worked on her assistant, who walked beside her with a breezy, if somewhat pensive smile.<p>

They happened upon a small clearing, where a handful of kids had marked off the familiar diamond-shape of a baseball field, using, it seemed, anything and everything to mark the bases. Olivia and Alex sat along a bench, watching them, and Olivia peered curiously at the figure in right field, eagerly pitching a hand into a glove that looked overly large. As she look closer, she let out a grin.

"Check out the girl in left field," she said, pointing. The young girl stood, a cap pulled low over her brown hair, which fell sloppily over her shoulders.

Alex followed her finger, and smiled as she nodded. "Is that what you were like when you were younger? Always tagging along with the older boys?"

"Probably," Olivia said, the mere act of watching the game putting her at ease.

They watched for awhile, the kids' laughter coinciding with the sunshine in a way that made the day seem lighter than it was, something more akin to spring than the dreariness of winter. As the kids ended their game, tapping gloves and pulling on each other's hats, Olivia called out to the girl, who was still straggling along next to a taller boy, the two of them clearly wanting to prolong their time in the park. "You guys mind if we take a couple of swings?" she asked.

The girl glanced at the boy, as if seeking permission, but he shrugged. "Girls can't play ball," he said simply. The smaller girl pounded her fist into his bicep, and he cringed. "Ow! I meant, _most_ girls can't play ball."

"Give us a shot," Olivia pressed, holding her hands out as if to catch the ball. The young boy tossed it towards her with a sudden fierceness, and she caught it one-handed, which seemed to be enough to impress him. Olivia glanced over at Alex. "Want to take a swing?"

"Why not?" Alex asked, taking the bat that the girl handed her, holding it daintily at her side. She walked over to the small home plate, which was marked by a wearing of the grass and an empty aluminum can.

Olivia jogged a few yards away, chuckling as Alex perfected her stance. Her body was rigid, only slightly bent at the knees, but her eyes were narrowed in determination. The girl ran a few yards behind the makeshift pitcher's mound, clearly not expecting to field a hit. The boy balled a fist into his glove and crouched behind her. Olivia's first pitch went sailing past Alex, straight into the boy's glove, so quickly that she didn't even have a chance to swing.

"That was a test shot!" she called, pushing a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes.

"That was a strike," said the boy from behind her as he tossed the ball back to Olivia.

She laughed as she caught it, calling out a few helpful directions. "Bend your knees a bit more, get into the stance, and just keep your eye on the ball." Her next pitch whizzed by again, but at least Alex managed a level swing.

"Strike two!" called the boy pleasurably. But he glanced up at Alex with a sympathetic shrug, and pushed her gently, backing her a few inches away from the can. "You're too close. Try from here. Remembe, the ball is always there before you know it. Swing early."

"Why thank you," Alex said, winking towards Olivia. "He's a gentleman!"

Olivia rolled her eyes, and this time gave Alex a slower, underhanded pitch. Her bat made contact, cracking against it with a loud thwack and the ball sailed past Olivia's left side, sending the girl running after it. "Nice work," she called, laughing as Alex stood smiling, pleased with her effort. "I guess you can't run the bases in those heels, huh?"

"I'm considering that a home run," she replied. "Just call me the Gambino."

"Bambino," Olivia and the boy said in unison. She walked towards Alex, reaching for the bat. "Let me show you how it's done," she said, broadening her shoulders.

Alex raised an eyebrow at her, but handed over the bat. "Show off," she said, but took the ball from the girl, rolling it around in the palms of her hand.

"Hey kid, go cover right field," Olivia said, nodding towards the boy who was crouching behind her.

"Why? I'm catcher."

"I won't need a catcher. I'll need someone infield to catch my hit. No go on out there."

"You might not hit the ball. Then you'll need a catcher."

"Yes, I will hit the ball." She nudged him lightly with the bat. "Don't make me look bad, just get out there."

"You are a show-off," he said, rising slowly to his feet.

"Yeah, today I am."

The boy shrugged and ran outfield, stopping just behind Alex and watching with his arms by his sides. He pounded a tiny balled fist into his oversized glove.

"You gentlemen ready?" Alex called, glancing at each one of them in turn.

Olivia lifted the bat, falling into a stance that she remembered from childhood. "Give me your best pitch."

Alex threw the ball, somewhat awkwardly, but it flew towards Olivia faster than she thought it would, and she only managed to catch the side of it with her bat, sending it flying low towards the far left of their makeshift field. Alex slid out of her heels and pranced towards it, signaling the girl to stay in place.

"You got an arm," Olivia said, her confidence slipping away for a brief moment.

"All that time lugging legal textbooks around," Alex said with a grin as she tossed the ball into the air and clumsily caught it. She turned, this time taking more care in her stance and her wind up. Again, the ball came quick as lightning, spiraling low, and Olivia took a swing, just managing to get a piece of it.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath.

"You keep fouling!" called the boy as he returned from the faux sidelines, tossing the ball underhandedly back to Alex, who grinned at her.

"Is that two strikes?" she asked innocently.

"Yes!" called the girl from behind her.

Olivia shook her head, tapping the bat into the patch of grass before resuming her stance. "Alright, quick-fire, just throw the ball." This time she was more than ready as the pitch came towards her, and caught its low curve right in the center, sending it spinning over her opponents' heads, which all turned upwards, watching it soar behind them, out of sight. Olivia smiled, content.

"Aw man!" yelled the boy, throwing his hands up in frustration. It wasn't the raction Olivia had expected. "Now how am I going to find my ball!"

"Yeah," the girl called, sending a daggerous look Olivia's way. "Why did you have to go and do that!"

Alex put a hand to her mouth, muffling a chuckle, and Olivia's fulfilled smile disappeared as the kids turned dejectedly towards the expanse of the green, the ball nowhere in sight. "Hey," she said defensively, wondering how a couple of ragamuffins could make her feel so guilty. "That was a really good hit."

The boy walked towards her, snatching the bat from her hand. "Thanks a lot," he said dejectedly.

"Hey," she tried again, reaching into her trouser pocket for her wallet. She pulled out a few dollars, and smacked them into his hand. "That should cover five brand new balls."

Alex walked over, following the girl. "Ahem," she said, clearing her throat in mock seriousness. "What about pain and suffering?"

Olivia gave her a quick roll of her eyes, but smiled politely towards the kids as she flipped another couple of ones from her wallet. "There," she said, handing each of them another dollar. "Pain and suffering." She emphasized the last words with a pertinent look back at Alex, who simply grinned. It was a striking, rewarding difference from the sadness that coursed through her back at the office, and for that, Olivia was grateful.

Their kids' eyes were wide as they tucked the money into their pockets, their initial fury at the lost ball now replaced by glee as they flitted through all of the wonderful, wasteful things they could buy with their new wealth. Olivia envied them for a moment. "Thanks for playing with us," she said.

"Anytime!" the boy called as they ran off, jumping along the path, high fiving each other.

"Pain and suffering?" Olivia repeated, leaning towards Alex.

"I like to throw you a curve ball every now and then," she answered.

"You know, you could've played ball at some point – you've got quite an arm."

"Ah, and you could tell that by three throws?"

"Pitches. Three pitches."

"Do you still play once in awhile?" Alex asked. "Looked like you were a bit rusty."

Olivia's face reddened until the caught the small smile playing on Alex's lips, and she gave her a small, playful shove. That, of course, caused her face to redden even more. She was turning into a school boy. She might as well have run off with the two twelve-year-olds to play a game of hopscotch before dinner.

"You know what I used to be really good at?" Alex asked, pointing towards a large, thick-branched oak tree.

"Lumberjacking?" Olivia asked with a playful grin.

"Climbing trees. I'd climb up to the highest branch I could and sit for hours."

"Your head in a book, I bet."

"I suppose that's less cool, then."

Olivia glanced up at the waning sunlight, and already felt the chill threatening in the air. "Why don't we grab an early dinner?" she asked.

Alex glanced over at her, but with her head angled down. "No, that's okay," she said. "I'll just grab something at home." She fumbled the clutch of her purse, an anxious gesture that didn't fit her.

"Like what, apple pie and tea?" Olivia's tone was jovial, but she caught the flush in Alex's neck. She had no idea how bad Alex's financial situation was, but she was most certain the blonde didn't like to discuss it. "Come on, it's on the office," she said. "That way, it can't possibly be a date."

She caught a glimmer of a smile. "Okay," Alex agreed. "But just to be safe, I want you to take me to the cheapest, greasiest place you can think of this side of Manhattan."

Olivia laughed. "You're on, Cabot. But remember, you asked for it."

The two walked only a few yards south of the park before Olivia stopped next to a hot dog cart and turned towards the blonde with a show of her hands. "How's this?"

Alex laughed. "Perfect."

She handed some change in exchange for two hot dogs and they settled onto a nearby patch of grass, Olivia sitting gingerly with her legs sprawled out, and Alex tucking hers gracefully underneath her. "What were you like in school?" Alex asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

The question surprised Olivia, and she finished chewing, stealing a napkin from the blonde's lap. "Would you believe me if I told you I was the smartest kid in my class?"

Alex studied her with a smile. "Yes, I would."

"Then I would call you gullible."

"I don't care about your grades, I care about what you were like. Tell me what you were like in high school."

"Ah, what an embarrassing time," Olivia said with a chuckle, hiding her face with her hand. "I spent most of my days pining after Elliot's girlfriends. I didn't even know what it meant. I just know that I wanted to be Elliot so badly."

"Did Elliot ever have a crush on you?" Alex asked.

Olivia balked, twisting her mouth into a frown. "Never," she said, her mouth full. "I'm sure of it."

Alex chuckled at her, reaching a hand forward and flicking a piece of bun off her lower lip. "I don't know how he managed to resist such a picture of perfection," she said playfully, tossing her another napkin. "You've still got some mustard on your lip."

Olivia took the napkin, but polished off her meal in only a couple of more bites, watching the afternoon ebb as Alex finished eating. "Look at that sun," she said, placing her head on her elbow. She let out a sharp exhale as her ribs cinched. Swinging a baseball bat probably hadn't been such a good idea.

"Here," Alex said, brushing her hands off and guiding Olivia's head into her lap. "How's that?"

After a few moments, Alex's fingers found their way to Olivia's bangs, brushing them off her forehead. It was nothing more than a caring gesture, but she couldn't help the pleasurable ripple that fluttered through her. The fingers traced her jaw line, down the side of her neck, and suddenly the touch was far more than simply a caring caress. She looked up at Alex, who wasn't meeting her gaze, but concentrating on her lips, and she cursed that they were in the middle of a public park and not someplace more private.

A couple passed by nearer to them, and Alex quickly ripped her hand away, tucking it next to her, which only made Olivia curse under her breath. "I'm sorry," Alex said, but Olivia didn't move her head, keeping her in place. "Olivia," she urged, darting a look at the couple, who looked curiously at them. "We're not on our side of town."

"I'm not moving," she said. "I like your lap, and I don't care who knows it."

Alex let out a laugh under her breath, darting another look at the couple, but they had moved on, and her shoulders relaxed. Olivia used the moment to sit up, stretching her legs out from her body. Alex gave her a pithy look. "My lap was just to prove a point, then?" she asked. She sighed, pulling her legs underneath her. "I really appreciate today," she said.

"I'm always willing to provide cheap comfort food," Olivia replied, keeping her eyes on the horizon ahead of her, where the sun was just now starting its heavy descent.

"Not just for that," Alex continued. Olivia waited for her to go on, but the blonde cocked her head, opting for a different train of thought. "I wish I were like you."

That caught Olivia's attention, and she looked over at the younger woman. "Why in the hell would you wish something like that?"

"You just have this… strength about you," she said. "It's more than confidence, it's a sense of integrity and people like it. They like you, you know, even though you pretend not to care. I saw how people looked at you when we were in Birdie's."

"If you didn't notice, they were looking at you too, sweetheart."

Alex shook her head. "I don't need that," she said. "I don't want that."

"Then what is it you want?"

"Time," she said. "I just need some time."

* * *

><p>Alex was pensive on the way home, but Olivia didn't mind the quiet walk. Skid Row was quiet in the waning sunlight, but Alex's building buzzed with stifled energy, waiting for the release of darkness. Since she had been back at the office, Olivia had accompanied Alex home each night, making sure she got in safely. She never stayed, and she had no idea if Alex ever left, but judging by the stacks of open books, which migrated to different places each night, it didn't seem she ever left. Olivia couldn't help but wonder if Alex had always been so solitary a creature.<p>

As she followed Alex up the stairs to the third floor, they heard a banging, accompanied by a slurred, feminine growl, causing Olivia to grab Alex's arm and slide in front of her. Stepping onto the third floor landing, she saw Mattie, her brown hair matted along the back of her head, banging a harried fist on the door of apartment 3D. Olivia had no idea who lived there, but whoever it was had surely pissed Mattie off.

"Ursula, get your blonde cunt out here!" Mattie yelled.

"Whoa, Mattie," Olivia said, stepping up behind her, but making sure to keep her distance from the jerky fists that the brunette now balled at her sides.

"I'm looking for Ursula," Mattie slurred, her eyes glassy. Olivia didn't have to inch close to her to smell the vodka wafting from her. Mattie looked at Alex, pursuing her own line of questioning. "You seen her? The blonde that looks like you, only a little less uptight?"

If the comment was meant as a dig, Alex didn't seem bothered by it. Instead a flash of recognition beamed through her eyes. "I haven't seen her," Alex replied. "Last I saw her was with Jack Spade at the Hotel Madison." She glanced at Olivia. "She's the one with the arrangement."

"'Arrangement,'" Mattie mumbled, tossing her hand grandly. "We all know about the 'arrangement'." The word curled off her tongue, slightly slurred. "She owes me some dough from a joint job two weeks ago. Ever since she's been high-falutin' with Spade, she's been avoiding me."

Olivia caught the malice behind the words. Mattie hadn't given her anything about the murders when she talked to her before, but if Olivia knew the one thing to make the brunette talk, it was competition. "You jealous, Mattie?"

"Jealous," Mattie repeated, stretching the word. "What, of the 'chosen ones'?" She laughed, the sound rough and hard from her throat. "These girls are stupid. They think they're signing up to leave this shit-hole, but they end up dead before they even start. Some johns get super jealous when they think you're leaving 'em high and dry. Like there ain't enough pussy running through these halls to make 'em happy."

Olivia felt Alex take a step closer, but she continued with her own line of questioning. "The girls aren't dead, Mattie. They're living it up overseas."

Mattie laughed, her eyes rolling towards the back of her head. "They never made it to Russia," she said. She giggled, hiccupping. She raised a fist to Ursula's door again. "Maybe this bitch never made it, either. Check the gutters!" she yelled.

Olivia gripped her fist before it could make contact with the door, inching closer to her. The skin beneath her eyes was discolored and baggy, making her look wan and ragged. "Mattie, what are you saying?" she asked urgently.

"I'm saying those girls only made it as far as the alley around the corner, and the only money they made was the jewels stuffed down their throats." She giggled again, wrenching her hand from Olivia's and turning her attention to Alex. "So what's the deal here, Blondie, she yours for the night?" Mattie asked, tossing her head casually towards Olivia.

"Mattie," Olivia said, warningly.

"No," Alex said, with a shake of her head, and Olivia couldn't help but feel a knot tighten in her stomach. Not that she had expected anything from Alex, but she was far from ready to market herself as a free agent along the halls of this particular building. Mattie slumped haphazardly against her shoulder, and let out a tired sigh, her hand tapping Olivia's chest.

"Well, then, you can come with me," she said. She stalked back towards the door at the end of the hallway. "But only after I make sure Ursula ain't in here!" she yelled, her voice rising at the end of her sentence, her fist complementing her words.

Alex put a hand on her arm, walking away from Mattie to her own door, but instead of offering an apology or an invitation, offered only business. "See what you can find out from her before she passes out," she said. "I'll keep an eye out for Ursula, see if she comes home at some point. We can compare notes at the office."

Olivia glanced back and forth between Alex and Mattie, her lips slack. "You know, this isn't exactly how I planned tonight."

"Oh, did you have a plan, then? For our non-date?" Alex asked, her eyebrows raised.

"I had a non-plan, yes," Olivia replied, refusing to be upstaged by the blonde's primness. She pointed over her shoulder to Mattie, who was now sitting along the top of the stairs, her head resting along the banister. "But, duty calls. Good night, Alex." She turned, satisfied with her casual display, and hoping like hell that Alex couldn't see how blatantly transparent it was.

Alex put a hand on her shoulder, leaning in to give her a light, chaste kiss on her cheek. "A non-kiss, then," she said with a smile, before giving a slight wave of her hand and disappearing behind her own door.

Olivia watched her go, her jaw slack. When it came to Alex, she would never have the upper hand. Still, she grinned as she turned back to Mattie, who squinted towards her. "You got lipstick on your cheek," she said, pointing.

That fact only widened her grin as she helped Mattie to her feet. "Comes with the job."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks Jazz, Rae, and Tues for their editing and fact-checking skills. Hope you all are still entertained :)<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

The knock at her door was disorienting, made more so by the fact that she had fallen asleep in her desk chair, her feet propped up and scattering maps of the Queens docks onto the floor. She reached immediately for the gun underneath the right drawer, cringing as she recalled that it was now neatly warehoused in Alex's own desk in the front room.

Managing to locate her own holster and gun abandoned on the couch in her office, she made her way slowly toward the door, catching the time on the clock by the coat rack. Widows and wives didn't get up this early. She clenched her gun in her fist, stuffing it in the back of her belt and pulling on her jacket.

She wasn't surprised to see Robert standing in the threshold, not by the way the hair on the back of her neck had upturned as she opened the door, but she was surprised by his debonair manner. There was no sense of the wolfishness that had permeated through him that first night at Alex's apartment. Instead he looked like a lawyer on his way to work.

"The office opens at nine," she said, keeping on hand on the door.

"That's good, seeing as I'm not here on official business," he replied with jovial jocularity.

"Then I probably can't help you," she said, closing the door. He wedged his foot into it, staring darkly at her.

"Then maybe you should consider helping out your new Girl Friday," he said.

That got her attention, and she reluctantly let him in, feeling secure from the gun resting in her belt. She stared expectantly at him, keeping her hands by her sides in case she needed to reach quickly for it. While she had him here, she might as well lead him into the conversation she wanted to have, so she spoke first. "I know it was you behind the arrest," she said. "NYPD wouldn't have cared a lick about a simple street fight. You wanted to send a message."

"And unfortunately it doesn't look as if my message was clear enough," he said with a shake of his head. "But, frankly, Detective, you're getting in the way of a state investigation."

She laughed. "What sort of investigation? Whatever it is, it doesn't seem like the police are in on your little sting." Elliot would have been privy to such information and passed it on to her. The fact that he hadn't meant someone was lying, and she put her money on Robert.

"It's on a need-to-know basis," he replied, taking a step toward the pitcher of water that sat on the table beside the wall. "And all you need to know is to stay out of it." He picked up the water, sniffing at it. "A real detective oughta have vodka, or at least a good scotch," he said.

"If you were paying me, then you could tell me what to do or what kind of liquor to stock," she said. "But last I checked, my office wasn't on your payroll." Now that she had his attention, she went for the jugular. "Jack Spade, however, is on your bankroll."

He shrugged, but his eyes flashed, as if she'd hit some nerve that was reflecting through his dark pupils. "If I were you, I'd be more concerned about who's on your own payroll," he said. "Alexandra has a habit of finding trouble."

Olivia cocked her head with a smile and chuckled, prompting Robert's frown to deepen. "A few weeks ago, I would have agreed with you. In some regard, I still do. But I don't doubt Alex Cabot for a second. I didn't doubt her father, either."

She had learned long ago, that mention Bill Cabot in a room full people and she could immediately tell who was dirty just by their visceral reaction to the name. Robert's pinched mouth and tense shoulders told her that he had somehow fallen on the wrong side of Bill Cabot's office at some point in time. She pressed harder. "But your father did, wouldn't you say?" she asked. "Isn't that how he managed to end up with his office?"

"That's preposterous," Robert spat, taking a step toward her. He did have trouble controlling his anger, and that's exactly what she was banking on.

"I don't think so," she said. "At least not according to my sources."

"And who are your sources?" he asked sarcastically. "The has-been loose-ups down at Cragens drinking their sorry asses off instead of doing business?"

She smiled politely at him. "That's the thing about going private," she said, straightening her lapel. "My sources don't just belong to one gang or the other. They run the gamut from NYPD all the way to the Rabbits. So it's up to you to figure out where my tidbits of information are coming from."

He took another step towards her, enjoying the couple of inches of height he had on her. "If that's the case," he said. "Then I would stop to think about who I'm getting my information from. After all, Alexandra and I go back far longer than the two of you. And I know her in ways that you never will."

Her fists curled against her hips and she had a thought to reach for the gun at her back, if only to frighten the little shit out of her office. There was no need, however, as he chuckled, tipping his hat at her as he backed toward the door. "Good day, Detective." The door clicked shut behind him, and she didn't move until she heard the lower door slam shut. She echoed it with a slam of her fist against the wall.

His visit had riled her up, but Cragen's was closed, leaving her little option to release her tension, and she focused instead on the maps she had littered over her office. The Queens docks were a lot less crowded as the Manhattan ones, but they were also spread out. Still, she had an inclination as to where Spade would intercept his arms shipment, if it was still going down.

That was the least of her worries. She didn't want Alex anywhere near the docks that night, not after Robert's visit, but keeping the blonde at bay would be a battle in its own right. Olivia glanced at the clock. It was ten past eight. Unlike Alex to be late. She kept the obvious thought from her mind, knowing Robert wouldn't be so stupid as to go after her in broad daylight.

As soon as she heard the key in the lock, she bounded into the front room, her fists stuffed angrily into her pockets as Alex smiled innocently up at her.

"You're here early," she observed, setting her clutch onto her desk.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Her tone made Alex balk, and she couldn't blame her. The tension seeped from it, an accusatory voice that she didn't like, but she blamed it on her rough morning. "I got bagels," the blonde replied, her eyes narrowing.

"Did you run into anyone on the street?" Olivia asked.

"No," Alex replied, shaking her head. "You're acting awfully paranoid." She tossed the bag of bagels toward her, and Olivia reached for it.

"I wonder why," she mumbled sarcastically.

"And ornery," Alex continued, but shrugged it off, spreading her own bagel onto a napkin and taking a seat at her chair. "So, what happened with Maddie last night? Ursula never came back to her apartment. I didn't see her this morning, either." She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Although I don't usually see her before the sun goes down, anyway."

Olivia wondered just how much to share about her night with Maddie. Nothing had happened, of course, but that didn't mean Maddie hadn't tried, up until the point where she finally passed out. She decided to stick with the business part of their talk. "Each of the girls that have been killed had all been selected by Nicky Burns for Spade's overseas job," she explained. "She was right: none of them ever made it. I crossed it with Elliot this morning."

"Well, if these girls are part of a larger arms deal, then shouldn't Spade be dealing with some angry Russians?" Alex asked. "Who would want to spoil his end of the deal?"

Olivia thought quietly. "I almost think Johnny Mack would do it."

"Then why would he hire you?" Alex questioned. "Spade has plenty of enemies. It could be anyone. It could be Nicky Burns himself, trying to play both ends. Either way, we'll find out more tonight. If we get something on Spade, we can use it as leverage to try and pawn out whoever's setting him up."

"Listen, Alex, I think you should stay away from the docks tonight. Let Elliot and I handle it, and stay here in case anything should go wrong. I'll need you by the phone."

Alex chuckled, taking a bite of her bagel. "You wish." She stood, walking into Olivia's office and ruffling through the maps on the desk, plucking one out of the pile. "You need someone as back up with you and you need someone at the fork to follow the car in case anything should go wrong. From where I stand, that adds up to three."

Olivia sighed. "Alex, this isn't a movie or some thirties noir."

Alex turned back to her with a familiar fire in her blue eyes. "You don't have to tell me that," she said. "I lived through the thirties." She paused in the threshold of Olivia's office, the lines creasing across her forehead. "Ursula was chosen and she didn't come back last night. What do you think that means?"

Olivia didn't spare her any reticence. "I think that means we'll have another body soon."

Alex didn't respond, and instead tossed her half-eaten bagel into the trash can by the door. "I think you're right," she said sadly, disappearing into her office.

Olivia sighed, fingering the maps on her desk. It would be her job to make sure that body wasn't hers, Elliot's, or Alex's.

* * *

><p>Alex watched as Olivia bent her head toward the radio, fumbling with its knobs. "How the hell do you work this thing?" she muttered, her frustration having mounted over the past few minutes after it offered nothing but static.<p>

"I thought Elliot showed you?" Alex asked, only half aware that her comment wasn't helping.

"Well, it was working fine when we made the switch-off," Olivia replied. "Maybe there are too many signals screwing around with it out here by the water." She glanced up, peering through the windshield at the warehouse that sat along the docks. They were tucked squarely between one of them and a dilapidated carrier truck, hidden from view, and apparently from any type of radio wave. "Do you have a nail file or something in your bag?" she asked, glancing over at the blonde.

Alex nodded, reaching for her purse. It was small, and the gun that she had tucked into it spilled out of it, dropping onto the seat between them. Alex pushed it back in, but not quickly enough, and Olivia quickly had her hands on it. "Since when do you carry this around with you?" she asked.

"Since you gave it to me."

"I gave it to you to keep at your desk. Do you even know how to shoot it?"

"Yes."

Olivia sighed. "Do you know how to aim it?"

"I'm working on it," Alex replied tersely, taking the gun and replacing it with the nail file she had found. She slipped the firearm back into her purse, giving Olivia a sidelong glance. "What time do you think this whole operation will begin?"

"Well," Olivia said. "Our operation technically began the minute we parted ways with Elliot at the fork." She slipped the nail file into a small slit in the radio. "But, who knows when Spade's lackeys will show up." She pried the casing off of the radio, fumbling with an assortment of wires. "We might be waiting for half an hour or three hours. Welcome to the downside of being a private eye."

"It's not so bad. The moon is beautiful tonight."

Olivia raised an amused eyebrow at her. "We're about to intercept a weapons shipment from one of the most notorious of New York City's mobsters, and you're acting like a poet."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Keep being crabby, and I'll start reciting poetry like a poet." She leaned back in her chair, glancing over at her. "Are you still salty at me for last night?"

Olivia didn't look up at her. "No." It was a damned lie. She may have gotten some valuable information out of Maggie, but that didn't mean she appreciated her time with Alex being cut short. Still, she was bound and determined to have the upper hand when it came to her assistant. She hadn't quite figured out how she lost it, but she hadn't had it in quite awhile, and it was beginning to rattle her.

Alex sighed. "Olivia, if you're angry with me, at least own up to it."

"Alex, I realize that right now, you have nothing better to do, but can't you see I'm concentrating here?" Olivia asked, her exasperation only slightly misplaced.

The low rumble of an engine sounded from the road, and the grumble of gravel indicated a looming car. Olivia caught the glint of it in the moonlight; its lights were off, just like theirs, and she subconsciously lowered herself in her seat, watching as it came to a stop just beside a nearby dock. She couldn't quite make out the model.

"Shit." She abandoned her play with the radio. Whatever happened, they'd have to find another way to communicate with Elliot, or at least wait until they got out of their dead zone. No one got out of the car that parked at the edge of the dock, and she and Alex waited in complete silence for a few minutes, squinting into the darkness in order to make sense of the shapes in front of them. Eventually, she saw the driver of the car climb out of the car, pacing a few times before walking towards the water, where a small, silent boat drifted towards him.

It docked quickly, with nothing more than a small rope to keep it anchored and another man stepped out of the car, both of them unloading a number of boxes from the boat. Olivia squinted, trying to focus on the men, but she couldn't see them clearly enough to recognize them. They were probably a couple of Spade's lackeys, doing the dirty work, but she had expected at least one higher-up to be there to oversee the handoff. As the rope was pulled from the dock, the boat drifted back into the water, disappearing once again into the darkness.

Olivia reached for the ignition, ready to follow them as soon as it was clear, but a crunch of gravel sounded again from the road, and the two men beside the parked car glanced up as a car sped towards them.

Two gunshots popped loudly from the distance and Olivia dove over Alex, instinctively covering her while trying to get some semblance of where the pops had been directed. They hadn't been discovered. Rather, an angry, surprised yell sounded from the docks, followed by two more shots. Whatever was going on down there, it didn't sound as if it was planned. It sounded more like an ambush. She grasped her gun. "I'm going to get a little closer," she said.

Alex's gaze burned into her, the whites of her eyes visible in the moonlight. "What? No, Olivia."

"Whoever's down there didn't come past us, which means they won't leave past us, either. This is my best bet to see who's fucking with Jack Spade. I'm going to get to the bottom of this shitty quagmire we're in."

Alex's hand reached out for her. "I don't think it's a good idea, Olivia, we don't have any idea what's going on down there right now. We should wait."

"Wait for what, Alex?" she hissed. "Wait for everyone to go home, and we're left with no evidence, no leads, and no arms shipment?" She shook her head, placing her hand on the door handle. "Whoever's down there, they used the element of surprise, and I'm going to use their best weapon against them. Just be ready to peel out of her at any moment, got it?"

She finally looked over at the blonde. Although she couldn't see very well in the darkness, she could feel the blonde's fear permeating the small space of the car, and she reached over and placed a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly. "You're thinking too hard, Alex. I'll be right back."

She crept out of the car as quietly as possible, barely shutting her door. The warehouse provided her some cover, and she crept along the side of it, the moonlight her only guidance. She caught sight of the newly arrived car, along the small loading dock about thirty yards away, but it was empty. Whoever this was, they didn't seem overly concerned with having a getaway driver. Which suddenly made them seem much more dangerous.

Still, she inched closer to the black car that had parked initially at the dock. A body sat slumped over the wheel, another around the back of it. As neared it, creeping through the darkness, she rounded the back of the car, but stopped short at the crunch of gravel beside the driver's side. A tall, masked man yanked open the door and pulled out the injured man, who slumped towards the ground, blood oozing from his chest.

"Shit," Olivia said again, cocking her gun.

* * *

><p>Alex had lost sight of Olivia, and she wasn't happy about it. Her heart beat faster, and she felt a chill run through her, a combination of the cool night air and her fear prickling across her skin. She leaned forward as far as she could, hoping to make out the figures on the dock, and hoping that none of them would remotely resemble her boss.<p>

After a few moments, her breath hitched as she caught sight of Olivia, creeping slowly towards the black car at the dock. Movement at the edge of the dock, a few yards from the car caught her attention, and she let out a low, visceral groan as the man walked towards Olivia. "No," she mumbled under her breath, repeating it as her hands fumbled with the ignition, rumbling the car to life.

Panicked, she hit the gas pedal, the tires squealing along the rough strewn gravel path towards the dock. She reached for her purse, thinking only of her gun, but the sudden lurch forward slid it out of reach, and she yelped in frustration. She saw Olivia and the man looked up, like deer caught in her headlights, but she didn't have time to register their reactions as she plummeted towards them. They scattered quickly, but Alex registered a foreign bump against the front of the car, and she slammed on the breaks, her screams as loud as the screech of her tires. She saw the body of a man at the hood of her car, but her mind was solely on her boss.

"Olivia!" she yelled, blindly running towards the two figures that had now moved to the edge of the dock. Her heels were gone, kicked off at some point in a rush of adrenaline, and the wood scraped her feet. As she got closer, she saw the masked figure's fist rise, and she screamed again, her cries covering the crack of the man's gloved hand against Olivia's jaw. The brunette teetered momentarily, and it was only the second hit that sent her over the side of the wooden platform, the splash resounding into the silence.

The figure turned to Alex and she saw him reach for something a few feet from him. Blindly, she lunged at him, sloppily, and he was on top of her, his fist in her hair. With a quick yank, he slammed her head into the dock, hard enough to disorient her but she blinked hard and fast to regain her vision, letting out a foreign-sounding moan as she felt the hot muzzle of a gun under her chin. Olivia's gun.

Her breath came out in ragged gasps, as she struggled to hear any sounds from the water, any telltale splashes or signs that her boss was merely wading her way back to land. The man stared down at her, unmoving, until the butt of the gun flashed towards her. She waited for the blow, but it didn't come, and the gun slammed into the ground beside her head. Then he was off her, running back towards the loaded car. Alex rose immediately, falling quickly back to her knees as stars floated in front of her, but she crawled quickly to the side of the dock, searching the water, and thinking nothing of purging herself over the edge.

The coldness sluiced into her, rendering her limbs useless for several seconds as the frigidity pinned her in place. The water was murky, and stung her eyes, but she used her arms and legs to search, hoping for a feel of fabric or a brush of skin. Her foot brushed something and she angled her body towards it, catching a glimpse of Olivia's fingers floating at her through the murky water.

Her arm felt heavy, but she reached forward, gripping Olivia's wrist and pulling her up. Her boss felt weighted, as if something were holding her down, and Alex felt her lungs burning. She pulled again, realizing nothing was holding Olivia back – it was her own dead weight. Still, she pulled, gripping Olivia around her chest, and fighting to swim upwards and finally gaining purchase off of an old piece of sunken wood, which she used to vault them towards the surface. Her chest felt as if it would explode with the effort, but when she could finally see the moonlight penetrating the blackness of the water, she kicked harder, until her head broke the surface and she inhaled a deep, desperate breath.

It came out as more of a cough, offering little relief, but she struggled forward. She fought against the choppiness of the water, her arm desperately gripping Olivia's limp form, but she let out a groan of frustration at the sight of the dock. It was about three feet high off the surface of the water, and there was no way she would be able to lift Olivia and herself onto it. Glancing around desperately, she caught sight of a small inlet twenty yards away, where the water met an inclined portion of muddled road. Forcing her arms and legs to work, despite the numbness creeping into them, she swam, every cell of her body burning with the cold, with the weight of her own exhaustion, and with the weight of her boss's limp body.

Her feet hit the inclined surface underneath the water, her toes scraping against it, and she found her footing, pulling Olivia upward. When she finally hit dry land, she stumbled, laying Olivia down and collapsing next to her. She couldn't have been in the water more than four minutes, but her muscles felt as if she'd been swimming for hours.

"Olivia," she choked, looking down at her boss' prone figure. She pushed her wet bangs away from her face, noticing the blueness of her lips, and then, with a dread she didn't know she could feel, she saw the stillness of her chest.

"No, no, Olivia," she said, her mind spinning. Taking a deep breath, she got quickly onto her knees, tilting Olivia's head back and opening her mouth slightly. Her shaking hands inched towards her sternum, and she leaned over, pressing harshly, not caring whether she broke anything, but only wanting to hear the sound of Olivia inhaling.

Nothing.

She leaned over, taking a shaky breath and letting it out into Olivia's mouth, watching as the brunette's chest rose with the lent air. She again pumped her sternum, but got nothing but stillness. Her panic was someplace deep inside her, waiting to be released, but at the moment she was focused solely on repeating the process, again and again, her cold lips locking against Olivia's in a promising meditation.

"Olivia, please wake up," she said, unsure whether the wetness from her eyes was from the bay or from her own internal desperation. "Come on, Olivia, please, this isn't it, this isn't it."

Shivering, she moved to press her hands once again forcefully against the detective's chest, but as she did so she heard a soft, gargled cough, followed by one more desperate. She turned Olivia to the side with a siphoned off cry of relief, pleased at the new shivers penetrating her boss' body. Her brown eyes were wild, fueled by adrenaline and the soft recognition of near death, but she veered her head around, searching for something in the distance. "They got away?" she asked.

Alex searched her eyes, her hands clasping both of the brunette's shoulders, confused. "What? Olivia, are you okay? Who cares if they got away. Are you okay?"

Olivia slowly got to her knees, steadying herself with her hands, still coughing, but her eyes focused on the tracks the cars had made in their haste to get away. "Shit," she cursed, pummeling a wet fist into the concrete. "We were so close!"

Alex stared back at her, and her fear was quickly trumped by a slightly gratifying irritation. Unsure of whether to slap her boss or hug her, she simply let her exhaustion overtake her. "You're okay," she muttered, slumping backwards onto the dock with a fatigued sigh.

* * *

><p><strong>Reggie, Boomer, you guys still out there?<strong>

**If I promise to update this sooner, will you promise to review? I won't keeping you hanging long for the next chapter - this weekend at the latest.**

**I missed this story and all of you guys!**

**Renconteur, thanks for the beta :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Headlights bored through them in the darkness and Olivia scrambled to all fours as quickly as her aching lungs would allow. Her vision blurred in front of her, the two white orbs taking on an effervescent glow as the hurtled toward her. The lights flicked twice as a hand waved out the window, and as she focused she recognized Elliot's square shoulders behind the wheel. The squeal of his brakes permeated the fog in her brain and she finally managed to get to her feet, her drenched clothes hanging heavily off her. He leapt out of the car, his gun brandished beside him as he scanned the abandoned car and the two bodies littered beside it.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, his eyes squinting in the type of anger only brought on by fear. "I saw the car flee, but didn't hear anything from you. No mayday or anything."

"Radio's busted," Olivia managed as she coughed. Her lungs weren't yet on board with the concept of speaking. "I couldn't get a signal." She turned toward Alex, who was getting to her knees, a tentative hand nursing the back of her head. "You okay?" she asked, extending an arm towards her. The blonde merely stared up at her for a silent second before nodding and reluctantly taking her hand.

"You couldn't get a signal? Then why the hell did you stay down here? You should have come back up to regroup."

"There was no need," she replied evenly as Alex's hand dropped limply from hers.

"Yeah," Elliot cut in, fingering the sopping collar of her shirt. "Looks like you got everything under control. Jesus, Liv." He ran a hand over the thin, brown bristle of hair that ran across his scalp, a nervous gesture she had seen him perform for years.

"Which way was the car headed?" Olivia asked, talking over him. She needed Elliot to play cop, not big brother.

"East," he said, with a wave of his thumb. "Fleeing like a bat at of hell. I managed to get the make and model, but not much else. We'll probably find it dumped alongside the parkway in the next couple of days." He walked closer to the body nearest to him, a small-framed boy who looked no older than a teenager. "Who are these cads?"

Olivia followed him, water sloshing in the only shoe still left on her feet. Chances are the boy had wanted to work his way up the criminal ladder. Instead, he ended up splayed with bullets outside a nameless dock. This type of tragedy had long since stopped phasing her, though, and she simply shrugged. "Spade's lackeys. They were ambushed."

Elliot's eyes darkened and he looked up at her. "You get an ID?"

"Nah, they were masked. Unloaded on these two and then took off with the goods." She tapped the boy's shoe with her own and shuddered, telling told herself it was merely from the chill of the water.

"You think they were Johnny's guys?" Elliot asked. "Who else would sabotage a Rabbits trade like this?"

Olivia shrugged. "Doesn't seem like Johnny's style," she said, gingerly touching a finger to a tender spot on her jaw. If it was Johnny, and he failed to tell her about his latest escapade, she'd kill him herself. They weren't partners by any means, but she expected at least that courtesy, even in a world of criminals. "If you're up for it, though, we could make a trip over there tonight and put that theory to rest."

Elliot gave her a once-over, taking in the wet clothes and the bruise that was surely forming along her jaw, but a small grin appeared on his face. "You still up for a shakedown after your little swim?"

A smile began to etch across Olivia's face, but it faded quickly at the sound of Alex's voice behind her.

"Are you two out of your goddamn minds?"

She turned, surprised at the vehemence in the blue eyes that stared back at them. Alex's jaw trembled with either the cold or with anger; either way, she didn't look pleased.

"You could have died tonight," she said to Olivia, her voice raw and accusing. "If whoever that was hadn't - " her voice caught, and she emphasized her outrage with a wave of her hand. "This is not just another day at the office playing cops and robbers." She moved suddenly, and briskly, toward the idling car that Olivia had seen barreling toward forward not fifteen minutes before.

"Alex," Olivia tried, tossing a guilty glance at Elliot.

"Go gallivanting off on a wild goose chase if you like," Alex replied. "No evidence, no trail, no leads. Prove that your dick is as big as his. I'm going home."

Olivia balked at the language, which was more suited for one of Munch's poker games than the mouth of her tall, regal assistant. Clearly the endorphins running through her own body hadn't had the same effect on Alex. Elliot took a step toward Olivia, his eyes narrowing. "You want to take her home? We'll reconnect first thing tomorrow morning at your office. If I get uniforms out here for these bodies, chances are they're going to want to know what they hell you two were doing here in the first place. They won't be so friendly."

Olivia tossed a glance at Alex, whose arms were crossed protectively over her chest as she stalked toward the car. "What makes you think she'll be any friendlier?"

* * *

><p>Olivia was bone cold, her wet clothes pressing into her skin and creating a frigid tingle every time she moved. Still, she had managed to convince Alex to let her drive. The car hadn't sustained any damage, despite Alex's earnest claim that she had hit something. That was likely the only evidence they'd have on whoever ambushed them. In Manhattan's underworld, though, that would be like searching for a needle in a pile of needles.<p>

Olivia's apartment was closest, and she drove them toward it, unwilling to leave Alex alone or to take the chance of walking back into the quagmire of Skid Row. She was much more confident she'd be able to monitor any loathsome activity in her own quiet neighborhood. When it came to her apartment building, she was usually the bottom of the barrel, and that was a breath of fresh air in her mind.

Their drive was silent, broken only by the persistent chatter of their teeth. Olivia felt like she could crawl into a warm grave, but Alex's icy paleness worried her as they finally walked underneath the low, glowing light outside her building. Alex hadn't spoken the entire ride home, but rather than anger, her shoulders seemed to hold a resigned exhaustion. Not that Olivia could blame her. Almost dying could do that to a gal.

Her apartment looked the same as she left it a few days before, having spent the majority of her nights sleeping at her office, but she didn't give Alex much time to take in the surroundings. "We need to get out of these wet clothes," she said, heading towards the small bathroom off the kitchen. As she turned on the shower and laid out a few towels, she heard Alex behind her, both her footsteps and the telltale chattering of her teeth giving her away.

"The water should be hot in a minute," Olivia offered, running her fingers under the lukewarm spray and relishing the thought of thawing out her freezing body. Alex simply stared at her with an almost ghostly gaze, her eyes startlingly blue against the paleness of her skin. "We'll feel a lot better after a shower," Olivia continued, wondering if perhaps the blonde was suffering from shock. "It will help settle our nerves."

"You go first," Alex said quietly, the first words she had offered since leaving the docks.

Olivia shook her head. "I'll change out of these clothes for now, but you're going in first." She offered up another smile, hoping to earn one from her assistant. "You did save my life, sweetheart. It's the least I can do."

The humor didn't earn her anything but a slight grimace as Alex's fingers reached up behind her neck, fumbling at the buttons on the back of her wet blouse. She shivered as she concentrated, her freezing fingers seeming not to cooperate.

"Here," Olivia offered, walking around her and handling the small, delicate buttons. Alex's neck was frigid, but clammy, and her shoulders were tense. For the first time that night, Olivia felt a surge of heat echo through her, and she forced herself to focus on anything other than the tall, thin body in front of her. If she couldn't earn a smile from the blonde, she definitely wasn't about to earn anything else.

Her fingers unlatched the last of the short row of buttons and Alex turned, her eyes holding a cold, unreadable depth. Saying nothing, the blonde pushed her into the wall with a force bred more out of sheer fear and exhaustion than desire, but her lips suddenly took Olivia's in a cold, desperate kiss. Olivia let out a quick grunt of surprise, her hands finding purchase on Alex's hips as she hit the wall. Her assistant's fingers gripped the wet edges of her shirt, not bothering with buttons, but instead pulling it over her head, her lips following the path of it, tracing over cool skin.

Olivia adjusted quickly to the frenzied pace, following suit by pulling Alex's blouse over her head. As Alex's hands fumbled with her own skirt, pushing it down over her hips, Olivia struggled with her pants, their clothes and undergarments piling at their feet in a wet heap. The blonde's skin was cold, but Olivia could feel her own fingers heating it, tracing warmth over her as they grazed the tips of her breasts. She pushed Alex forward into the small shower, pressing her against the tiled wall and letting the hot water rush over both of them. The heat of the water made her hiss as it mingled painfully with the iciness of her skin, but Alex caught her lips quickly, silencing her.

Between the kiss, the water, and Alex's feverish touch, Olivia warmed almost immediately. Their tongues tangled for dominance, but Alex's silent need was as palpable as the steam rising around them. Olivia broke the kiss long enough to turn her lips towards Alex's wet nipples, the water trickling off them and down her stomach. Alex groaned at the contact, her head pressing back against the tiled wall as Olivia's hands followed the trail of water all the way to her center.

They exchanged no words, only soft, wrenching sounds as their fingers vied for one another's bodies. Alex's hands caressed Olivia's breasts, her fingers gripping with a slight desperation as she attempted to pull the two of them closer together. Olivia's jaw ached from the kiss of the gun back at the docks, but it seemed to mesh with the internal ache coursing through Alex, and she leaned in to capture the blonde's needy lips once more.

Tracing Alex's folds, Olivia had the sudden, desperate need delve deeper into her. Her assistant's moan was muffled as she pressed her mouth along Olivia's shoulder. "Inside," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the sound of the water, so low that Olivia was afraid she imagined it. More than willing, Olivia's fingers thrust firmly as Alex's teeth grazed the skin of her shoulder, her nails mimicking the gesture as they nails raked against Olivia's back.

As her thrusts found a long and deep pattern, Alex leaned her head against the wall, her eyes falling softly open. The current passing through them suddenly felt less primal and more like a need for connection. They didn't break eye contact until Alex's composure began to crumble under Olivia's touch, her shoulders going rigid against the wall as her hips bucked forward. Olivia curled her fingers, almost beckoning the blonde to come, and Alex let out a shuddering moan. She gripped Olivia's arms as her legs quivered, threatening to send her sliding down along the slick wall. The water seemed almost an after effect as it continued to rain down upon their stillness, and Alex pulled Olivia into her, holding her close. She pushed her back only slightly as her breath returned to her.

"I'm so mad at you," she whispered, her fist balled against Olivia's shoulder. "You're so goddamned reckless."

The vulnerability in Alex's eyes made Olivia lift the fist of clenched fingers, slowly kissing each knuckle. "I think we're both a little reckless," she replied quietly.

Alex shook her head almost imperceptibly, her eyes lowering. "That's not who I am."

"Then who are you?"

Alex let out an embarrassed half-smile, born out of frustration and cemented with self-hatred. "I'm just a very frightened woman," she said softly.

Olivia did see uncertainty in Alex's eyes, but there was something too solid and determined behind those eyes to count as fear. "We're fine, though," she said, dipping her head to catch the blue eyes that were staring somewhere along her collar bone. "We're okay for now."

The water was losing its heat against her back, and she moved reluctantly to shut it off. "If we stay in here, we'll be right back where we started. Shivering." Handing Alex a towel, she looked towards the mirror, which was fogged over. "How about I make us some tea?" she asked.

Alex shook her head. "I just want to be in bed with you."

The words made Olivia's head jerk upwards, but they didn't hold that same desperate desire that had moved Alex earlier. Instead, her eyes were innocent and clear. Her request was blatantly direct. And Olivia was fine in granting it.

They dressed, spreading their wet clothes along any spare space they could manage. Olivia did make tea for the two of them, the least she could offer considering her stomach was still tied in small, coiled knots from their night at the docks.

Alex turned her attention to the small photo that rested on one side of the bed as she sunk onto it. Olivia's pajama top swallowed the blonde's lean torso, but her long, pale legs peeked appealingly from underneath it. "Is this you?" she asked, picking it up the frame. "You and Elliot?" A disbelieving smile crossed her face.

"All right, you can sleep here, but you can't pry," Olivia said with a grin as she took it from Alex's hands. "Yeah, that's us."

"Is that his shirt?" Alex asked with a knowing smile, pointing to the oversized button-down Olivia wore in the photo, stuffed into a pair of short pants that made her resemble a newsboy more than a nine-year-old girl. At that point, her mother had stopped buying her clothes altogether. Alex took the photo from her and set it back on the dresser. "You two look happy," she said.

"We had probably just knocked over a candy store or something," Olivia said.

Alex laughed. "That must be why you're so good at tracking criminals now, is that it?"

Olivia returned her smile as she leaned back on the bed, swinging her legs up. "Possibly," she said with a pointed raise of her eyebrow.

Alex moved closer and rested her head against Olivia's chest, the steady beat against her ear comforting in a way that she hadn't known it could be. Her fingers traced the small slice of skin between the hem of her boss' shirt and the waist of her pajama pants, which matched the top she borrowed. She smiled as Olivia's fingers trailed thoughtfully down her arm.

"Alex, Robert came to the office this morning," she said, exhaling.

The soft touch suddenly sent a quiver knifing through Alex's veins, and she swallowed back a mix of fear and anger. "Why?" she asked, shifting and looking up at her.

Olivia shrugged. "He wanted me to think you were working this case with him. Wanted me to believe that you were on a side other than mine."

"That's not true," Alex said, once again ready to defend her intentions, but Olivia cut her off with a stark laugh.

"Come on, Alex, after tonight? I know it's not true." She sighed, running a hand along Alex's side. "I wasn't going to mention it, but things just got a whole lot more complicated. I need to know why he has it in for you so badly. He's ADA; he's got everything he wants. Why the obsession with you?"

With each word, Alex drifted further from Olivia's touch, as if folding in on herself. "I don't know," she said, slipping onto her side, barely able to speak over the lump in her throat. "Things got bad after I contested my mother's will."

"Sounds like they weren't too great before that."

A new heat colored her face and it wasn't from the tea, or the shower, or Olivia's touch, which suddenly felt claustrophobic as it rested along her waist. "Olivia, can we not – can we just not do this right now?"

Her question was met with a simple kiss on the back of her shoulder and she closed her eyes against the wetness welling behind then, hoping that they stayed just as buried and unseen as the secrets she'd worked so hard to keep. "Whatever he did to you Alex, however long ago, it wasn't your fault," Olivia whispered. "Just know that." She sealed her words with another kiss.

With those words, she felt Olivia inside her with an intimacy that differed wholly from the physical love they shared earlier. Whatever happened or didn't happen between them, her boss had wedged her way into a place Alex had thought numbed over years ago.

"I followed you," she said softly, wiping her eyes as she looked back at Olivia over her shoulder. "The day before I called you to request an interview. I followed you from your office all the way to Central Park."

She felt Olivia raise her head, glancing inquisitively at her. "Always a detective, huh?"

"I wanted to know who I would be working for," she qualified.

"Oh yeah? What'd you learn?"

"That you walked briskly, but were always watching your surroundings. That you drank your coffee black and had a soft spot for cannolis. That you knew this city like the back of your hand."

Olivia laughed. "That when I'm not spying on the Manhattan underworld, the job can be pretty boring."

Alex smiled, resting her head back on her pillow. "You smiled once the entire time I watched you. Just once."

"That sounds about right," Olivia said with a nod. "Manhattan doesn't bring out the jester in me. What did I smile at?"

"A blue bird."

"A what? In Manahttan?"

"Mhmm," Alex said, recalling the memory with a smile. "It stopped beside you on a newsstand. And you looked over at it and grinned. Like you were sharing a secret with it."

"And that's what made you want to work for me?"

"It didn't hurt," Alex replied lightly.

"Hiring you was one of the best moves I ever made," Olivia said, her hand moving along the curve of Alex's hip.

"Of course it was," she replied. "Where else can you get a secretary, lover, partner, and rescuer for such a steal?" Their banter had taken a turn for the lighthearted, but a tight ball of anxiety settled just below her chest at the mention of their brush with death. At her own near brush with death that inexplicably had left her unharmed.

"Speaking of," Olivia said. "You must have put up a pretty good fight tonight. How in the hell did you scare them off?" she asked. "If you used the gun I gave you, I give you permission to carry it everywhere from here on out."

Alex felt her blood run as cold as if she'd just hauled out of the ocean. She had played the scene over in her mind, the panic as the gun pressed against her chin, and then the wash of confusion as it hit the wood beside her. For a moment she had thought the crack was her own skull. "I don't know," she replied, which was partly true. Something about the action nagged at her, and she wasn't ready to confront it. At least not with Olivia lying beside her. "Can we talk about it tomorrow and just get some sleep?" she asked, turning over and pulling Olivia's arm over her waist.

"Sure," Olivia said against her neck, pressing a light kiss against it.

Alex bit her lip, swallowing back a lump of acidic fear. Olivia may be holding her, but only Robert would color her dreams that night. She closed her eyes, preparing for the nightmares to come.

* * *

><p>The ring of the telephone jarred Olivia out of an almost drugged sleep, and she groaned as she reached over to silence it. The morning light had just started inching its way across her floor, which meant it was way to early for her to consider usual business.<p>

"Yeah," she said, not bothered with formalities at such an early hour. She glanced over at Alex, who was just rousing out of her own slumber, wiping a hand across her heavy-lidded eyes.

"Olivia."

Olivia bristled at the sound of Nan's voice, which sounded thick and throttled at the other end of the line. "Nan. What is it?" she asked, glancing at the stopwatch on her table. "It's just after dawn."

"You got another body," Nan replied, her voice holding none of its usual confidence. "I wanted to call you first."

"Where?" Olivia glanced over at Alex, who had straightened at her sudden change of voice, raising her eyebrows over at her.

"Here. Birdie's." Nan's voice shook. "I found her this morning on my way in."

"Shit," Olivia muttered. Things had suddenly hit too close to home. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," she said. "Call Elliot, Nan. Lock up and don't open the goddamn door for anyone who isn't wearing a uniform, you got it?"

"Yeah," she said, distractedly. "Just get here, Liv."

Olivia hung up, glancing over at Alex. "Unfortunate wake up call," she said lowly.

"What is it?"

"I gotta go," she said, her mind buzzing despite the fog of sleep she had just been pulled from. She climbed out of bed, already pulling her shirt over head and heading for the small cut out in the wall that she had made into a makeshift closet.

Alex sat up. "Olivia, I'm not the jealous type, but I think it's best if you explain why you're rushing out of bed at the crack of dawn to see your ex-girlfriend."

Olivia shook her head as she reached for a shirt from the closet. Leave it to Alex to command logic this early in the morning. "Another body's been found," she answered, her fingers making quick work of the buttons.

Alex's eyes widened as she swung her legs out of bed. "I'm coming with you."

Olivia put up a halting hand. She didn't need Alex and Nan together, period, much less with a dead body to deal with, too. "Alex, I think it's best if you stay here," she said.

"Are we back here again?" Alex asked with a raised eyebrow and a purse of her lips.

The question gave Olivia pause, especially after the previous night, and she shook her head, resigned to the fact that somehow, she had actually come to rely on Alex. "We're leaving in five," she warned.

"I'll be ready in three," Alex piped, but furrowed her brow at the still damp clothes that hung along Olivia's dresser. "Please tell me you have a skirt or something remotely feminine lying around here somewhere?"

* * *

><p>By the time Alex and Olivia arrived, a couple of police cars were already stationed in front of Birdie's, with a couple of uniforms blocking off the alleyway that lead to the back of the building. As they made their way back, Alex glimpsed Nan walking toward them, her arms clasped protectively over her. She seemed composed, as always, but the lines around her eyes let Alex know that she was indeed shaken. She felt a flicker of concern pass through her as she remembered the DA's investigation of the club. Certainly, a dead body wouldn't help Nan tout the positives of such an establishment.<p>

"Nan, what the hell happened?" Olivia asked, and Alex saw the muscles tense underneath her coat. Her boss had been quiet on the way over, and Alex caught the protectiveness in her stance as she leaned into the shorter woman.

"The hell if I know," Nan answered tersely. "I came in early to grab some notes I left in the office, and just happened to come in the back way. She was out there, just lying on the ground. Completely discarded. It's Mattie. Shit," she muttered shakily, as if the words were catching up with her all over again.

Alex followed Olivia's gaze behind Nan, where Elliot and a fellow officer knelt beside the body. A large dumpster loomed to the side of them. Whoever had dumped the body hadn't seen fit to discard it there; whoever it was had wanted her to be found. Alex gasped as they stepped forward, and she focused on the body, recognizing the normal chestnut brown hair and the soft, slightly flat button nose that she had seen only two nights before.

"Jesus Christ," Olivia murmured, shaking her head at the familiar face.

"I'm guessing you know her, too," Elliot said.

Olivia nodded, averting her gaze for a moment. Alex took a step backward, a hand still over her mouth. "Yeah," the brunette replied, turning back to Elliot with a frown. "Girl's done some work for Spade. But she's been helpful to us, too. She was on the inside."

"Not anymore," Elliot said with a grimace. "Same MO, though" he said, walking over to them, holding out an envelope with a pair of gloves. "Jewelry in the throat, the likes of which she never would have possessed herself." To emphasize his point, he slid the jewelry out into his gloved palm, displaying a delicate ruby ring with what used to be a shiny, but now tarnished gold band.

Alex stared down at his hand, and felt heat suddenly rise from her chest to her face, even as the air whooshed from her lungs. She knew that ring. She had long ago memorized its contours, had run her hands over it so many times as a child studying her mother's hands. She had even seen it immortalized in the stack of photos that Liz Donnelly had given her.

"Alex, you okay?" Olivia asked, but she couldn't summon a breath of air, much less a response. She backed away, running into a policeman who braced her arms with a pair of strong hands. She shrugged violently away from him as she continued toward the street, the walls of the alleyway suddenly tunneling in on her. Only one person had access to that ring.

"Alex?" she heard again, but she walked blindly toward the block of sunlight at the end of the alley. The night before at the dock had left her with a nagging, crushing guilt, which was now threatening to rise from her stomach. She recalled the way Robert had brandished her father's pocket watch, the gloat in his eyes at possessing everything that should have rightfully belonged to her. Including the ring. She heard the crack of the gun against the wood of the dock, the crack that should have been for her, but for some reason she had been spared.

The whole time, Robert. He had left her alive for a reason. When would he come after her?

"I need to go home," she said, her heart suddenly too big for her chest, and she leaned a hand against the wall as a wave of nausea sent the sidewalk up to meet her.

"Alex, come back inside," Olivia said, reaching for her. "I know it's upsetting, but we'll find whoever did this to her."

Alex leaned away from her touch and tried to straighten, but she did so on wobbly legs. "I just need to go home," she repeated.

"No, Alex, it isn't safe there. Come on, I'll take you back to the office." Again Olivia reached for her with a tender touch, a worried furrow crossing between her gentle brown eyes.

Alex jerked away as if burned, the sereneness of the touch a reminder of how little she deserved it. How had she not known what he was capable of? "No, I – I'll be fine. I just need to be alone for a little while."

Olivia frowned, clearly unable to discern Alex's sudden change in mood, and for the time being, she wanted to keep it that way. Robert had come within inches of killing Olivia and destroying the one good thing Alex had managed to salvage in a life that he had tried so hard to destroy. She wouldn't let him come near her again. If the cops thought Johnny Mack had something to do with the murders, then so be it. At the least, it would keep Olivia from getting too close to what had suddenly become a dangerous truth.

She knew where she needed to go; a place she hadn't been in years. It was finally time to confront her past before anyone else was hurt by it. Olivia's gaze still burned into her as she turned and walked away, but Alex refused to look back at her. This was now her battle and hers alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, small, intimate community of beloved readers? You like? <strong>

**If you don't, we can fix that :)**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Olivia fought the urge to run after Alex, instead watching as her lithe body wove its way through the crowd of curious onlookers that had stopped outside the border of uniforms blocking the alley. She turned back and caught Nan's concerned eyes. "Is she all right?" she questioned, watching as Olivia retraced her steps back to the macabre scene.

"Don't know," Olivia answered, not particularly enjoying the feeling that crept up her spine. Sure, it was gruesome, but she hadn't seen her assistant so unnerved, despite all that they'd been through the past week. She guided the conversation back to something she could control, cutting her eyes back to Nan. "Listen, you don't say one word to anyone from the DA's office, or hell, even any other cop besides Elliot, got it?"

Nan nodded, her green eyes focusing on the paved alley as she attempted to follow Olivia's train of thought. "Does this have something to do with Spade?" she asked. "And Johnny?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," Elliot cut in, walking over to them and sharing a look with Olivia. "My money's still on Johnny Mack."

"Why would he waste his time offing a few girls in Spade territory if it was the guns he was after?" Olivia asked, growing tired of the same arguments. "It's a waste of time."

"Not if he wants stir up some trouble in Spade's neighborhood as a distraction," Elliot replied, still nursing his old theory, which was beginning to wear thin. One of the only good things to come out of Olivia not being allowed into the force was that she didn't have to hang onto a shoddy theory simply because the Chief of Police thought it was good for business.

"Well, give me time to talk to him," Olivia offered, her eyes drawn back to the grimness of the alley. "I'm the one working on his dime, if he's going to give anyone anything, it will be me."

Elliot shook his head, rocking on his heels. "Too late, Liv. Uniforms went over to the docks this morning to bring him in for questioning. He's already at the precinct."

Olivia's eyes widened in anger. "On whose order?"

Elliot glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. "The Chief's," he answered slyly, irritated at her sudden fervor. "What the hell difference does it make? You trying to get to the bottom of these murders or are you trying to protect your breadwinner? Which is it?"

Olivia felt Elliot's accusation in the pit of her stomach, but didn't take the bait, instead shaking her head. She wasn't so far in Johnny's pockets that she couldn't see clearly; he wasn't paying her that much, and even if he was, money had never blurred the hard line she drew between justice and corruption. "Don't be an asshole, Elliot."

He sighed, rolling his eyes, but said nothing more. Just like when they were kids, he preferred to let the argument ride out on its own. "Nan, you got coffee in there?" he asked, tilting his head toward the back door of her building.

Nan glanced up at him, her eyes flashing mirthfully. "Not for assholes," she replied evenly.

Olivia smirked at Nan's dig as she walked back towards Mattie's body, but guilt settled in her chest. Whoever had killed Mattie had more than likely figured out that she'd spilled her guts to Olivia. Spade had eyes and ears all over the neighborhood; she just had to figure out who it was that had seen them together. And as much as she didn't want to believe it, Alex may be the link she needed.

Mattie's body had been covered with a black sheet, but her hand jutted out, the fingers ghostly and stiff, a ring shining garishly against the paleness. She squinted, squatting down and peering closer at the familiar stone setting, a ruby encased in a gold swirl. Had Mattie been wearing it the night before? Where had she seen it?

_"That's some ring."_ The memory of that afternoon in her office sliced through her, and she placed both hands on the hard gravel, steadying herself. She knew that ring. Alex knew that ring. She stood, backing away from the body, ignoring Elliot's questioning glance as he walked towards her. "Liv? You want some coffee?"

_"You're a thief. My mother wanted me to have that." _Olivia recalled Alex's reaction to the pocket watch that Robert had brandished in her apartment, the very one that Olivia had stolen from him, just to return it to her. The ring was a message. And Alex had gotten it.

"Liv?" Nan's voice called after her, but Olivia ambled blindly onward, following the same path Alex had taken moments before, hoping that it would somehow keep guiding her to the right place. She needed to find Alex before Robert did.

Her venture to Alex's building yielded nothing, the hallways and stairways quiet, as most of its clientele was oblivious to the fact that one of their own had been murdered sometime during their unusual business hours. Mattie's door was locked, and it didn't seem as if last night she had been in any condition to leave. Whoever had picked her off had been someone familiar enough for the young woman to let inside her flat. Alex's floor was similarly quiet, and even after picking her assistant's lock, she found nothing. Wherever the blonde had gone after leaving Birdie's, she clearly didn't want to be found. And something about that didn't sit right in Olivia's gut. She talked it up to suspicion, but as the time passed, it resembled worry. And that was something she wasn't quite used to feeling.

With little hope that Alex had decided to go to the office, she made her way back there anyway,. The sun had never made it out behind the clouds, rendering the streets as nothing but gray shadows. Questions tumbled through Olivia's head, a low pounding now reverberating in her temple. She walked slowly back up the steps to her office, hoping to see Alex but instead was met with large, familiar figure looming outside the frosted glass door. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked derisively, the memories of the night at the dock heating her tone. "I got a bone to pick with you."

"Is that right?" Slim said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pistol. "Cause I got a bit of a bone to pick with you, Benson."

Olivia eyed the gun warily, wishing she had reached for her own. An unhappy Slim made for a dangerous Slim.

"Seeing as how Johnny is sitting in NYPD right now, I've decided we want our money refunded for services non-rendered and basically fucked," Slim spat, waving his gun just slightly toward office door.

"Slim, I didn't have anything to do with Johnny being taken down. That was all the Chief. Not me, not Elliott - "

The wave of the gun cut her off. "This ain't no exit interview," Slim retorted, anger crunching his forehead. "In case you didn't get it: You're fucking fired. Now open the door."

"The key's in my pocket," Olivia offered carefully. "You mind if I get it?"

Slim angled the gun toward the doorknob, letting off a shot. The knob dropped to the floor, leaving a gaping hole in the wood, and the door inched open. "Ladies first," Slim said, following her into the office. He slammed the door behind him, although with the blown lock, it simply rammed open again. Not that it made much of an escape route, with Slim's bulbous figure blocking it.

If Slim really thought she was double-teaming him, he wouldn't think anything of pulling a bullet in her right then and there. Olivia needed to figure out how to make him believe that he needed her. Bleeding from a bullet wound in her office wouldn't get her any closer to finding Alex. She took a breath. "Listen, Slim, the Chief is taking the angle that Johnny's involved with these murders, as some kind of attempt to mettle in Spade territory. The only reason they think that is because of the guns."

Whatever she said, it seemed to work, because Slim looked at her slowly, his catapillar eyebrows raising. "What guns?"

"I think the two of you fucked things up by wrecking Spade's shipment last night," she answered. "If you had lain low, Johnny wouldn't be passing the morning with the Chief of Police."

"What the hell are you talking about? We weren't anywhere near that shipment. It was your job to ram them on that."

Olivia had been almost certain Johnny and Slim had gotten impatient, bucking her undercover and going after the guns themselves. But, Slim's surprise seemed genuine, which caught her off guard. She'd never seen Slim genuine. "What?"

"If someone crashed Spade's shipment, it sure wasn't us," Slim confirmed. "You got your wires crossed." He rolled his eyes. "Which means, I'm damn sure firing you, and I should shoot you just for being a thorn in my ass."

"Hold on," she said, raising a finger at him. Olivia ruffled through Alex's drawers, all the while feeling Slim's gun trained more persistently on her.

"I hope you're getting my money," Slim said cautiously, eyeing her. Olivia russled over the yellow manila file folder, pulling it out of the desk drawer.

"That don't look like money to me."

"It may be Johnny's ticket out of this," she said, dumping out the contents, a flutter of photos and pages littering the desk.

Slim reached down, picking up one of the photographs, recognition in his squinting eyes. "This is Bill Cabot," he said, studying them as he flipped through the handful. "What a ring," he said, stopping at one of them and flipping it towards Olivia. "Ol' Cabot didn't do too bad for himself in the legitimate market, did he?"

Olivia picked up a large packet of pages, which looked like a reply to Alex's contestment of her mother's will. Her eyes stopped at a list of exhibits, and an address along the bottom of a page. "I think I know who's been baiting us."

"Who?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Robert Thorne," she said, holding up the page. "Everywhere there's a question, he's been the answer."

"Cut the bait and switch, Benson."

"Those murders that Johnny's about to take the rap for? Robert Thorne is behind them. The sabotage last night at the docks? That was Thorne. All roads lead to him. We just need to prove it."

Slim stared down at her. "You're really giving me a fucking headache here, Benson."

"If Johnny goes down, you'll have a much bigger headache."

He leaned over the table, reminding her of the gun he held in his hand. "And if Johnny goes down, you'll have a fucking bullet in your head."

She held the page out to him. "I know where to find him." Slim glanced down at the address, then back at Olivia. "You ready to take a drive?" she asked.

Slim ripped the page from her hand, tucking it into his pocket. "Just remember that if this little adventure don't work out right.. I'll bury you in Thorne's back yard."

Olivia took a deep breath, more than certain Slim would keep his word, at least on that point. It wasn't exactly the team effort she was hoping for, but she would take what she could get, as long as it lead her to Alex.

* * *

><p>It had taken some vague lies, along with a toss of her hair and a coy bat of her eyelashes, to convince Cragen to lend Alex his prized car for a couple of hours. By the time Olivia returned to the office, Alex would be well out of Manhattan. She drove blindly down a route that she knew all too well, the new high-rises and hotels slowly slipping out of view, replaced by sidewalks and the looming residential homes of Bay Ridge.<p>

She stopped outside of a large Dutch colonial settled on its own slice of grass, a small patch of a front yard only alluding to the larger green space in the back of it. She hadn't spent much time in the yard as a child, what with her pale skin and introverted demeanor, but she did remember the view from her father's study: the dew settling along bright green blades of grass, a bird flitting across the blue sky.

Taking the gun out of her purse, she tucked it instead in the garter belt at her thigh, wanting to take no chances if she needed it. Climbing out of the car, she glanced up at the house that towered above her, one that she had spent most of her life in and that now loomed gloomily with nothing but sad memories. The act of ringing the doorbell felt entirely too formal, and she resorted instead to giving the wood a solid pounding with her fist. When the door did fling open, she was surprised to see Robert standing there; she expected a maid or a servant.

"Alexandra," Robert drawled, but she saw past his confidence; he was surprised to see her so soon. "I see you must have gotten my message."

She pushed past him into the foyer, the gun giving her a confidence she wouldn't have had otherwise. She stopped short at the entrance to the formal living room, its dark drapes a carryover from her mother's months-long depression after her father's death. Robert's footsteps sounded behind her, but she sensed another figure among the dark shadows of the room, and her breath hitched as she glimpsed a tall man standing at the piano. He held a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his hair slicked back from his forehead and she recognized that same calculating grin that he wore when they met that afternoon at the hotel.

"Well, hello, Ms. Grace Stewart," Spade greeted her as he set his glass slowly down before walking over to her. "Fancy seeing you here. It's a very small world, indeed." He paused. "A small world filled with double-crossers, perhaps."

He glanced up at Robert. "Want to tell me what the hell is going on here, ol' boy?" he asked with a pair of dark, questioning eyes. Jack Spade wasn't used to having to demand answers. "Very clever, using her," he said, returning his gaze to Alex and taking a step around her, a deep line running down the middle of his brow, as he forced her backwards a few steps. "I must say, I pegged this one as legitimate. Usually I'm not so blinded by beauty."

His gaze seared into Alex, and her gun felt too far away as her fingers fidgeted by her side. Spade chuckled amiably before the back of his hand slammed into her cheek, sending her reeling against the piano, her hands striking a few of the keys, their pitch complementing her cry.

Robert was on him quickly, his knuckles slamming into Spade's gut, and Alex backed towards the wall in an attempt to steer clear of their flying fists, her jaw still smarting from the blow. After Spade returned the punch with a square hit to her stepbrother's jaw, the two of them separated, Robert heaving and the older man delicately straightening the lapel of his jacket. "Nicky is on his way here as we speak, Robert," he said, his accent more refined than ever as he ran a hand over his hair, slicking it back into place. "I suggest you start talking before he arrives."

Robert glared at him as he stepped toward Alex, peering down at her and reaching a hand toward her bleeding lip. She jerked away from him, equally frightened by both of them: one an efficient, slick mobster, the other a twisted, sadistic killer. Robert's eyes flashed as she veered away from him, but he turned, facing Spade and tossing back the rest of the scotch in the abandoned glass. "What shall we talk about, Mr. Spade?"

"How about we talk about where my shipment is?" Spade replied thinly, his eyes narrowing along with the fine line of his lips.

"How the hell should I know?" Robert asked. "You've got plenty of enemies, Mr. Spade. Why would you accuse the one true friend you have in this business?"

Alex watched their exchange, knowing that her stepbrother was lying. If it had been anyone other than him at the docks the night before, she would most certainly be dead. She slipped her hand down her skirt, ready to grab her gun, and wondered just how crazy her brother had to be to keep lying to Jack Spade.

Spade smiled over at Alex, as if remembering she was there. "What is your real name, doll?" he asked.

"Alex," she answered quietly.

His eyes shifted, widening from their usual small slits as realization settled upon him like a weight to the floor. His shoulders drooped slightly as the past caught up with him. "Alexandra Cabot," he repeated. His eyes lost their haunting haze and returned to narrow slits as he grinned. "My, the years have been good to you." He glanced at Robert. "How did you manage to get her to work with the likes of you?" he asked him. "Or does family just stick together?"

"I'm not working with him," Alex corrected, spitting the words toward both of them.

"Then my dear," Spade began, reaching into his coat pocket, "you are in the wrong place at the wrong time." She tensed, as did Robert, but Spade merely pulled out a small metal case and plucked out a cigarette, lighting it. "I don't appreciate being double-crossed, even by beautiful women. I don't enjoy being double-crossed by assistant district attorneys, either." He took a puff of his cigarette and exhaled, the smoke clouding his face.

Robert laughed sardonically, glancing at Alex as if they shared some secret joke. "I keep telling this guy that has plenty of other enemies to worry about. He should take extra care in keeping the office of the District Attorney close to him."

Spade laughed, taking a step closer to him, blowing smoke into his face. "You think I need your fucking office?" he asked lowly. "You think that's the way business gets done in this city? Remember, I'm the one that put you and your father in that godforsaken office. Without me, the both of you would still be sucking Bill Cabot's cock and trying to work your way up the ladder."

Alex's eyes burned, the revelation only confirming what she had felt in her gut for years, and she instinctively reached down for the gun at her thigh. Robert echoed Spade's taunting laugh, but reached into his coat pocket, with a flash brandishing a gun back at him. "I don't fucking need you," Robert said calmly, before the sound of a gunshot punctured the air around them. Alex jumped, startled, her fingers clumsy as they touched the metal of her gun, but Robert had already turned and was on her immediately. He grinned gallantly, a touch of violence in the twitch of his lip as he reached out and stepped on Spade's still lit cigarette, which rolled toward him.

She heard Spade utter a choked breath, and peered past Robert's shoulder, but he simply aimed the gun again without glancing back and fired another round, hitting Spade directly in the chest. He pressed Alex backwards into the long drapes of the window, the gun still hot beside his chest. He loomed over her, his sudden scent coupled with the feel of that house taking her back to a place she didn't want to go. Her hands fumbled, trying to gain enough leverage to reach for her gun. "I kept you alive," he said, gripping one of her clenched fists. "All this time, when I didn't have to. How can you be so ungrateful?"

"You are a sick psychopath," she said.

"Am I?" he asked thoughtfully, cocking his head. "Then what are you, Alexandra, dear? How many years did you let me touch you?"

"Stop it," she said, shakily, eyeing his finger, which was still curled around the trigger. A thought struck her, as she wondered what it would take for her to reach up and grab it, pull the trigger herself, and end the struggle for good.

"How many years did you touch me back?"

Alex shrunk back into the wall, the curtains billowing around her, echoing the waft of shame that came over her as he stared down at her. Pull the trigger, she thought, moving her eyes to finally catch his. A catch of light, almost a shadow, visible through a far curtain caught her eye. She blinked, unsure if she'd seen it, but it was enough to bring her out of the swell of curtains, and she pushed forward, a guttural cry ripping from her throat. The move caught Robert off guard, and he stumbled backward. Alex plucked the gun from her garter, shoving it into his face. His eyes panicked for only a second before he smiled again, taking a step toward her. "Are you challenging me to a duel, Alexandra?" he asked, before tossing his gun to the floor beside him.

And that's when Alex felt truly frightened; now she had the power.

* * *

><p>"You want to slow the fuck down, Olivia," Slim uttered, shaking his head as he looked out the window. "The last thing I need is a copper pulling us over with my outstanding warrants. I need that like I need a dick in my ass."<p>

"Ditto," Olivia agreed, but she only pressed her foot harder against the gas pedal, a mix of vexation and fear rumbling inside her. Alex was independent and stubborn to a fault, and now those traits had taken her straight toward the arms of a killer. Olivia slammed her palm against the steering wheel, preferring to let anger command her, rather than worry. "I can't believe she went to handle this goddamn son of a bitch on her own."

"I can believe it," Slim said, which only furthered her irritation. "That dame don't mind getting her hands dirty, I could tell from the moment I met her. If you ask me, they both sound like a couple of nuts. What the hell is the ADA of Manhattan doing offing girls in Skid Row? Plenty of politicos take part in that skin game, but it don't end up in murder."

"I don't think it was about the girls," she said, anxiety edging her voice. "I think that was a perk for him."

"Some perk," Slim mumbled. "So, you're telling me he's the one who sabotaged Spade? This nut job thinks he can steal a shipment and what, take over the docks of Manhattan?"

Olivia eyed him suspiciously. "You sure he isn't looking to make a deal with Johnny without you knowing it?"

Slim shook his head. "Johnny wouldn't keep me in the dark about something like that."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

Slim's eyes slid over her, narrowing into small slits. "Because I fucking know, that's why."

Olivia eyed the row of houses passing outside her window, searching for the numbered address she's seen on the envelope. It was midday, but they still had a cover of looming dark clouds, which covered the sun in an overpowering gray. She parked a hundred yards or so away from the house, killing the motor quickly. She leaned forward, squinting. "Is that Cragen's car?" she asked, disbelieving. "He's never even allowed me to touch that damn thing, much less drive it."

"Maybe she got her hands a little dirty for that one, too, if you know what I'm saying," Slim said with a snort, but Olivia shot him a glare.

"Shut the fuck up, Slim. Listen, you take around back, I'll take the front. We're working with the element of surprise here, you got it?"

"I'll be quiet as a mouse, Benson."

She rolled her eyes as she looked over at him. "A mouse as big as an elephant. Let's go."

They parted ways about thirty yards from the house, Slim heading toward the back and Olivia heading toward the front, banking around the side. Stepping behind a small hedge, she used it for cover as she raised up and looked quickly into a front window, allowing her head to bob quickly in front of it. Heavy drapes cloaked the windows, preventing her from seeing anything inside. Tight with tension, she reminded herself to breathe as she crept toward the front door, unsurprised to find it locked. A cry ripped from inside the house, animalistic, but Olivia recognized it immediately, and the tight ball of tension in her stomach released, adrenaline fueling her now. She aimed her gun squarely at the lock, taking a page from Slim's book, and blew a hole through the door, effectively blowing her cover.

Olivia kicked open the door, gun in front of her, angling it towards the direction of the cry. Alex and Robert stood facing each other a few yards ahead of her, only glancing peripherally at her as Olivia walked towards them. She caught the glint of a gun in Alex's shaking hand. From where she stood, Robert was unarmed.

"Alex, put the gun down," Olivia said fiercely. She knew what it felt like to take a life, the sudden emptiness that permeated through you after the gun fired, and she didn't want Alex to feel that. Olivia could see the slightest quiver in Alex's wrist, and watched as uncertainty briefly flashed through the hatred that darkened her blue eyes. The explosion of the gun shocked her, even as she saw Alex's finger tighten around the trigger. Robert crumpled, the sound of his body like a bag dropping to the floor.

"Fuck." The word jolted Olivia into action, and she ripped the gun from Alex's shaking hand, tucking it inside her own belt. As she turned to Alex, she saw it: The dread, the fear of how quickly she had just ended a life. "Alex, we need to get out of here," she said, gripping a clammy hand. "Now."

Another gunshot sounded, this time from outside, and it startled Alex into movement, her blue eyes wildly wide. "This way," she said, pulling Olivia along a front hallway, as another shot sounded from the back of the house. Her heart pounding, Olivia was finding it hard to focus on the sound of the shots or where they were coming from, but the one she heard as Alex yanked open the front door was loud and startlingly clear.

Alex stumbled back into her, and it wasn't until Olivia caught her around her hips, struggling under dead weight, that she felt the warm wetness of blood. "Alex," she breathed, sinking to the hard floor. The front stairs creaked under the weight of heavy footsteps, and Olivia looked up, the barrel of a gun pointed at both of them. She scrambled quickly in front of Alex, shielding her as she stared up into the cold eyes of Nicky Burns.

"The two of you really know how to stay in trouble, don't you?" he said with a sneer as he waved the gun at her. He looked past her at Alex, who struggled to raise herself on an elbow, and raised his gun toward her. "That must be the one causing all the distraction," he said with a laugh. "Fucked Robert up." He pointed the revolver back at Olivia, emphasizing his point. "Looks like she's fucking you up, too. Enough to take a bullet for her, ay?"

Her own gun was now lying abandoned a few feet away from her, but Alex's was still lodged in her belt. If she was quick, she'd be able to get a shot off, but not before Burns got off one, too. She needed a distraction. She hoped Nicky Burns liked to chat.

"You set Robert Thorne up, didn't you?" she asked, hoping that by pandering to the man's ego, she'd at least grab a few seconds of breathing room. It didn't work. Instead, he cocked the gun.

"You don't have to set up a sick fuck like Thorne," he replied. "You just let him go, and reap the benefits as shit hits the fan." His lips curled into a grin.

Olivia wasted no more time, her hand flashing towards her belt. Shots exploded quickly, and she felt her own arm jerk back with a quick, blinding burn, and she scrambled to let off another shot before her hand became useless with pain. Another shot blasted, and she waited for the burn, but instead, she heard a thud, and the groan of the stairs. Her eyes floated from Nicky Burns' prone form, towards Slim, who hovered over him, his gun still poised.

"Motherfucker," Slim heaved, out of breath, as he lowered his gun.

Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, Olivia turned her attention to Alex, all the while keeping her neck pricked at the presence of Slim behind her. Saving her life had been a mere byproduct of his own revenge against Burns; she wasn't expecting much more than that.

Alex had managed to prop herself against the wall, her face wan as she kept a hand pressed futilely against the blood painting the white of her blouse. "This is bad," she mumbled, her head tilting back against the wall.

"We're going to get some help," Olivia assured her, attempting to keep her voice calm as she edged closer to her. She turned back to Slim, pointing her gun directly at him, hoping that he didn't notice she was holding it in her unsteady left hand. "Get us to the hospital."

He raised his eyebrows, keeping his own gun by his side. "You don't have to resort to threats, Benson," he said. He nudged Burns' body with his toe, and, satisfied that he was a goner, nodded his head. He holstered his gun.

Convinced, Olivia slid her own gun back into her belt, struggling to wrap her useless right arm around Alex. Slim bent towards them. "I can let you play hero all day long while she bleeds out," he said. "Or you can let me get her to the car." Olivia stepped out of his way, wincing as she stood, not bothering to look at the damage done to her own shoulder.

Alex seemed to recognize the large man looming over her, but said nothing as he scooped her up. "Keep your hands where I can see them," she finally managed, struggling to keep her head upright as it lulled toward his shoulder. Despite the levity of her words, her forehead, with its thin sheen of sweat, crinkled in pain.

"Yeah, yeah. You dames never let anything go, do you?" Slim retorted, stepping around Burns' body and carrying Alex easily toward the car. Olivia lumbered after, climbing into the car and helping Alex into the backseat. As the car peeled off the curb, Alex let her head fall towards Olivia's torso, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular. Olivia pressed her hand on top of Alex's. Their fingers interlaced, doing little to staunch the flow of blood, but Olivia, like Alex, refused to let go.

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><p><strong>Hello again! Thanks for reading :)<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen  
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Trees, houses, and sidewalks blurred through the car window as Slim sped them through the residential streets of Bay Bridge. Olivia braced herself as they rounded a curve, and pushed a strand of hair from Alex's clammy forehead, grimacing as a streak of red from her bloodied fingers tainted the blonde locks. The car swerved, tires squealing, and Olivia cursed as her burning, bloodied shoulder slammed into the window.

"Get the fuck out of the road!" Slim yelled, as a bewildered mother and small child hopped precariously back onto the curb.

Olivia scowled, hurling her words at the front seat as she tried to right herself, her good arm still wrapped around Alex's midsection. "Jesus, Slim! Get us there in one piece!"

Her anger didn't bother Slim, and he glared at her in the rear view mirror before craning his neck toward the back seat. "I'm trying to keep blondie here awake." He frowned, then thankfully turned his attention back to the road. "She's really ruined the leather back there, you know. I've cleaned out many a car after a bloodbath, and that shit don't come out."

"Just drive!" Olivia shouted, wishing her shoulder were in better condition so that she could reach forward and clock him.

"I ruined your car," Alex mumbled, for the first time angling her head to take a look at the damage the bullet had done to her midsection. She raised her fingers, as if trying to determine if the blood coating them was actually hers.

Olivia pressed Alex's hand back over the wound, trying to focus her attention on something other than the hole in her side. Panicking wouldn't do her any good. "At least you didn't ruin Cragen's car, huh?" Olivia didn't like the way her voice shook, and tried to convince herself that it was the pain in her shoulder that caused it. But, she knew it was the blood, all the blood, and the way Alex's skin seemed to pale by the second. "How'd you even get Cragen to loan you that car?" Was this really all she could come up with while Alex lay bleeding in the back of a car? Her panic was setting in, humming through her like an electric fissure, and she really had to work to smile down at Alex, trying to pretend that she had things under control.

Alex's attempt at a smile came out as a cringe as she shifted her hand over her stomach. "You don't know the power of a pencil skirt," she managed, breathing thinly.

"Oh, I think I do," Olivia insisted, glad to hear her voice, no matter how frail it sounded. "I can't say no to a woman in a pencil skirt." She caught Slim eyeing her with a curiousness that made her skin crawl, but she ignored him. They hit a bump in the road, causing Olivia to let out a pained curse as they jostled in the back seat once again. Alex groaned, her head drooping slightly, and Olivia shifted as much as she could, angling Alex's face toward her. "Hang in there, Alex," she encouraged.

"Keep talking to me," Alex mumbled, her words slurring slightly.

"Yeah, Benson, keep whispering those sweet nothings," Slim snorted. How the man could command the wheel at such a speed and still be an asshole, Olivia didn't know; it was a talent, to say the least.

Alex's eyes rolled upwards toward the front seat, but closed for a few seconds before fluttering open again. Olivia leaned over, her lips poised just above Alex's ear. "Remember the record you played for me that night at your flat?"

The blue eyes floated up to her, trying to focus. "Yes."

"I haven't been able to get that song out of my head since you played it," Olivia continued, her voice a low, intimate whisper. "As soon as this is all over, I want you to play it again for me." She felt Alex's head nod against her lips. "Because I can't remember the lyrics, I just remember the tune. And it's driving me nuts."

Her ploy worked and Alex gave a pained attempt at a smile, which was better than nothing. After a low, quivering inhale Alex's lips moved, matching Olivia's whisper: "You've made me happy today. And when you're looking my way... you give me daydreams of things in store..." She trailed off, her eyes staring blankly, as if she was someplace else. Her forehead relaxed, and Olivia felt guilty for attempting to bring her back to present, back to the bloody car.

"Slim, how much longer?" she asked, glancing out of the front window.

"I look like I got a map up here, Benson?" he asked. "I'm going as fast as I can."

Alex's head lolled sideways, and Olivia focused her attention once more on bringing her back. "Alex, sweetheart, will you stay with me?" When she got no response, she tried again, this time more forcefully. "Alex, come on, let me see those pretty blue eyes." This time, it worked, and Alex looked up at her through a filmy gaze.

"... say to all the girls..." she uttered, her sentence getting lost in a haze of weakness.

"No," Olivia refuted, shaking her head. "Just the blonde ones." She let out an anxious sigh, peering back out of the side window and hoping to see the comforting sight of a hospital building up the road. All she got was a small road sign labeled "HOSPITAL" with an arrow, but at this point, she'd take anything. "Step on it, Slim," she called.

"For a broad who just got panned in the shoulder, you're doing a lot of backseat driving," he said, shaking his head. Still, the car sped up, only slowing once they turned into the wide driveway of the hospital. Olivia peered out of the window, grateful to see a small "Emergency" sign plastered over a low awning.

"Alright, kids, we're here," Slim called over his shoulder as he screeched to an abrupt stop beside the double doors. Gray light flooded the interior of the car as he wrenched the back door open, pulling Alex toward him. "Come on, Blondie," he said, lifting her easily into his arms.

This time, Alex quipped no response back at him, and Olivia watched as her arms dangled limply from Slim's hulking frame. Olivia's shoulder had numbed, the pain no longer burning, and she pummeled through the doors, her voice raw as it echoed through the entryway. A couple of onlookers glanced up at the trio as they ambled into the white tiled room. A nurse stood behind a counter, talking aimlessly with two fellow nurses, but she lurched quickly into action. She ran towards them, calling out numbers and codes that Olivia couldn't understand. Seconds later Alex was on a stretcher, white uniforms hovering over her, and disappeared through a set of swinging doors.

Olivia and Slim stood alone, facing an empty corridor. Olivia turned to him. "Listen, Slim, I'll give you back Johnny's entire deposit, but I need your help. We can't be tied to that house. We were never there."

Slim nodded, already two steps ahead of her. "I'll get a guy on it with me. We'll get Cragen's car out of there and make the whole thing look nice and simple for when the cops show up. Consider it an open and shut case." He eyed her. "I don't need you rattling off to your cop buddies anytime soon. I don't want me or Johnny tied to this in any way, neither."

Olivia shook her head. "Deal. Just get it done. We've probably only got a couple of hours, max, before the cops are tipped."

"Hey, for once, our goals are the same Benson." Slim chuckled. "Welcome to the dark side." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the door. "Maybe go get that shoulder looked at, huh? I don't need you keeling over before I get that deposit back." She watched him saunter back through the double doors, tossing her keys in his hand. It was certainly true: No matter what side she'd crossed over to, it had just gotten a lot darker.

"Excuse me, sir?" Olivia turned at the interruption, surprising a short, stout nurse. "Oh, excuse me, _ma'am_," she corrected with a startled smile. Her eyes brushed across Olivia's bloodied clothes, but narrowed as the appraised her shoulder. "Oh my," she said, reaching for Olivia's arm. "Were you shot, too?"

Olivia glanced down at her shoulder, as if surprised to still see the blood there, now caked over in a sticky, wet mess. "The woman they just brought in," she replied, ignoring the question, "can you check on her?"

"Ma'am, I'm sure they're doing all they can for her. Why don't we get you taken care of?"

Olivia shook her head, glancing down at the nurse's name tag, the letters unclear at first. She blinked. "Betty," she said. "Can you check on her? Her name is Alex. Can you just go back there and tell her that everything is going to be okay?"

"Is she family?" Betty asked quietly, a suspicious glint in her eye. "Are you next-of-kin?"

Olivia knew what that question meant, and she could feel the nurse's studied, judgmental gaze on her. "No," she answered, the events of the day finally catching in her throat. "But I'm all she's got."

Betty nodded, but turned her attention back to Olivia's shoulder, a polite way of ignoring her request. "Let's get you cleaned up, alright?" Without saying a word, Olivia let the nurse guide her down the same long corridor she'd seen Alex disappear through, but she couldn't make out anything behind the closed doors that dotted the hallway. Betty lead them to a small enclave, where three gurneys sat, sectioned off by thin, pale curtains. Olivia stood, watching the older nurse retrieve a gray hospital gown from a drawer, laying it out on one of the gurneys.

"Have a seat, dear. I can't very well reach your shoulder with you standing like that."

Olivia sat, watching as Betty silently cut the sleeve of her shirt, and she winced as the material pulled at her skin. The sting that came as she pressed a piece of gauze onto it, soaking up the blood, was even worse. "The doctor will be in shortly to sew you up," Betty explained as she finished, peeling off her gloves with a snap. "Do you know any next-of-kin that we can notify for your... acquaintance?" she asked, picking up a clipboard.

"Her name's Alex," Olivia snapped. "She doesn't have any next-of-kin. You can notify me, how about that?"

"I'm afraid that won't do," Betty said simply, her face drawn in a mask of civility. She scribbled hard along the clipboard before hanging it off a rack near the edge of the gurney.

Olivia knew she was fighting a losing battle. She'd fought them many times before, with store clerks, mailmen, clients, and any number of people that normally didn't matter until they did. Until they held something that she desperately needed. She looked up, and her eyes hardened. "I need to make a telephone call," she said.

"Family?" the nurse asked.

"Sure," Olivia replied evenly. "Family."

Betty curtly took the name and number that Olivia gave her, promising to make the call, and her rubber shoes padded against the floor as she left, making her way back down the hall. The silence left behind in the small, curtained area was too great, a void that Olivia could only fill with frustration and worry. She hopped off the small gurney, pacing back and forth before rocketing her foot into the wall, leaving a black scuff along the white paint. The pain helped take the focus off her shoulder, but it didn't take alleviate any of her fear.

By the time the doctor finished sewing up her shoulder, Olivia's nerves had been somewhat dulled by a small dose of pain medication. Her bloodied shirt lay in a small, crumpled bag in the corner of the room, and she felt air against her back as she struggled to keep her hospital gown around her shoulders. She'd managed to scrounge what little information she could out of an orderly, who assured her that the blond that was brought in earlier was resting in recovery. Before Olivia could get any more from him, she heard her name echoing through the corridor.

There was no mistaking the sound of Nan's voice, and no mistaking the panic that iced her tone: "Olivia?!"

"Ma'am, you can't go back there - "

"Olivia?!"

"Ma'am - "

"Touch me again and I'll have this hospital's certificate of operation reopened so fast you'll barely have time to blink before your supervisor realizes you're the one to blame."

Olivia bit back a relieved smile as Nan whooshed through the curtain, her eyes ablaze. She shoved the flimsy curtain closed again with a huff, but her demeanor softened the moment she caught sight of Olivia's shoulder. "What the hell happened?" she asked, stepping forward and allowing her fingers to hover just above the white bandage. "Why are you hurt?"

"I got in the way of a bullet," Olivia replied needlessly, shifting on the gurney. "Alex was shot, too." The explanation felt strange on her lips, and she wished she'd been able to see Alex.

"What? Where?" Nan asked, still searching Olivia's face for answers. "How?"

Nan's questions swirled in Olivia's drug-hazed mind. "Robert Thorne," she answered, which only served to tighten Nan's features in further confusion. "He was the one behind the murders. Alex went after him."

"And you went after her?"

Olivia nodded, the events of the day still as surreal as a Dali painting. "Turns out he was mixed up with Burns and Spade, too, probably trying to play one against the other and come out on top."

The explanation only created more questions for Nan, but she decided to keep them to herself. "Is Elliot on his way?" she asked. "I'll call him."

Olivia shook her head firmly, reaching out and grabbing Nan's arm. In any other situation, Elliot would be the first call she made. But not today. No one needed to know that they had been at that house. Not even Elliot. "No. Leave it."

Nan's eyes widened in surprise, and at once she was at a loss for words as she shook loose of Olivia's grip. "What?" Her eyes narrowed, sharpening like a pair of forceps, ready to pluck the truth out of anyone standing in front of her. "What are you not telling me?"

Olivia hesitated, but only briefly. Nan knew how to play the dark side of things; she muddled the line between black and white often enough, she could handle the truth, and hopefully even help protect them. "Alex got in the middle of things. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Nan rolled her eyes. "Well, clearly she was, otherwise she wouldn't be _here_, now would she?" She wasn't buying the vague explanation. "What is going on with you? You helped solve a case, you uncovered who was behind these murders, and you're not going forward with what you know? Are you protecting yourself or are you protecting Alex?"

"Alex doesn't need to be in the middle of this."

"How did she get in the middle of it, exactly?" Nan asked, navigating carefully around an accusation. "She went there on her own, Olivia. Did you stop long enough to wonder why?"

Nan had a habit of playing to logic, which usually went counter to gut instinct, a maneuver Olivia didn't always appreciate. Especially when she had already questioned Alex's intentions enough over the past few weeks. "She wasn't working with them, Nan."

"How do you know?" Nan pressed. "Because you slept with her, is that how you know?"

The question was sharp enough to pierce Olivia's armor of silence, and she finally glared up at her. "Robert Thorne was Alex's stepbrother. H's not a good guy, Nan, and he wouldn't stop until he got to her. Alex went after him. She shot him. But if the District Attorney, her stepfather, gets wind of it, he'll run completely over her. The way we left it, it looks just like what it needs to look like. Bad guys, doing bad things, that ended badly."

"But, you're not telling Elliot," Nan repeated, and Olivia knew how it sounded. She'd never kept things from Elliot. "Don't you think," Nan continued, gesturing incredulously toward Olivia's shoulder, "he's going to wonder how the hell you ended up shot? And Alex? How are you going to explain it to him if - " she had the grace to cut herself off, but crossed her arms across her chest, frustrated. She slowly shook her head, exhaling, as she stared down at her shoes. Olivia waited, letting the silence do its work. Despite everything, Nan trusted her, which meant she would do what she could to help. After a moment, Nan raised her head, patting a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, her eyes resolute. "What can I do?"

"They won't let me see her," Olivia replied. "I don't know anything."

Nan nodded. "You give me five minutes," she promised. "And Alex will think you've been by her side the whole time." She smiled. "After all, I think I've made myself familiar to the nurses around here."

"You did make an entrance."

"Always."

More than true to her word, Nan worked her magic through her usual calculated combination of charm and threats, and Olivia found herself being led into a large room with two rows of beds stretched along each side. Some were sectioned off by curtains, but most of the beds were empty and open, unused machines sitting beside them. "This one was lucky," said the orderly, pulling open a thin curtain and revealing a sleeping Alex. "Just missed a lung and grazed a couple of organs, but no lasting damage. She'll be in some pain when she wakes up. As soon as she does, we'll give her another dose of morphine after we test some vitals."

Olivia nodded as the woman left, then pulled the curtain back around, enclosing the two of them. There was no chair or any place to sit, so she sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Alex's skin was less pale than before, but a streak of red still coated her hair, reminding Olivia of just how lucky they'd been. There was still so much she didn't know about Alex, and her past, however difficult it was, still covered her in a shroud of mystery.

Years earlier, Nan had given her that same sense of mystery. But, where Nan had kept her weightless, always fluttering from one emotion to the next, Alex kept her weighted in something she hadn't felt with anyone else. A sense of connection that can from nowhere, but one that was so thick it was like a blanket covering only the two of them. And as she sat and watched the slow rise and fall of Alex's chest, all of her questions and doubts seemed to dissolve around her.

Before long, Alex's eyes fluttered under her closed lids, and her fingers moved to clench something, grasping only the sheet. When her eyes did finally open, they squinted blindly at the harsh light before focusing, finding Olivia only after a few slow moments. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words seemed to catch in her dry throat, and she swallowed instead, looking around at the small, curtained cubicle.

Olivia followed her gaze. "Not exactly five-star accommodations," she said. "But, this is what you get when you leave the comforts of Manhattan." She grinned, glad to see the blue of Alex's eyes again. They widened, then deadened, and Olivia could almost see the last few hours catch up with her in an instant.

"Are they here, too?" Alex asked, her voice scratchy, barely above a whisper.

Olivia leaned closer to her. "Is who here?" She waited, but Alex didn't respond. "Alex?"

"Is he here?"

In a flash, Olivia understood the question, and quickly shook her head. "Robert's gone. He's not here, sweetheart."

It didn't seem as if Alex registered the response as she struggled to sit up, her hands clasping the sheet. "No," she mumbled.

"Whoa," Olivia breathed, reaching out to gently press Alex's shoulder. "I need you to rest, okay? Just stay put."

"What did I do?" Alex asked, confusion lilting her head back and forth on her pillow. "What did I do?" It was as if she was grappling with a horrible dream, but both of them knew that what had happened that afternoon was very real. Olivia knew how revenge felt, like coming off of a drinking binge the morning after; all the repressed hatred and pent-up anger came flooding back, spreading like a sickness.

"You've had a rough day, Alex." She gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "Hell, you've had a rough couple of weeks." From what she could tell, Alex had more than a couple of rough weeks. If anything, she had a few rough years. Alex shifted, then groaned, the physical pain for a moment overwhelming anything else.

"Feel like you've lost a couple of organs?" Olivia asked playfully, helping settle her onto her pillow.

Alex shook her head, closing her eyes. "No, I feel like they stuffed a few more in there," she replied lowly, before her eyes popped open again. "Are you okay?" she asked urgently, her attention now more focused. "Are you hurt?"

"My pride is a little hurt," Olivia admitted. "After all, you took a bullet for the both of us today."

"That wasn't my intention," Alex breathed, but couldn't bring herself to exert the energy to laugh. Instead she offered a weak smile before her eyes saddened again, and Olivia could tell she was now talking about something completely different. "That wasn't my intention." She swallowed, and her voice was thick when she spoke again. "I'm so sorry, Olivia. I should have told you, but I didn't want him - " the words stopped, her throat siphoning them off, and she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Listen," Olivia said, letting her fingers stroke Alex's hair. "You need to rest. Close your eyes, we'll get you some more meds, and I'll sit with you."

Alex didn't reply, but she sat lay quietly for a moment, letting her fingers drift towards her stomach, where Olivia could see the imprint of a large bandage underneath her hospital gown. If she had worked a little harder, or had managed to stop Robert at the docks that night, neither of them would be here. And Alex wouldn't have had to take matters into her own hands.

The guilt weighted Olivia's shoulders, and she felt Alex's fingers threading through her own, pulling her hand toward her lips and pressing a kiss between her thumb and forefinger. "When I get back to work," Alex began, her eyes flashing with the first sign of mirth, "I'll have to figure out your worker's compensation policy."

Olivia laughed, surprised that it came that easily, but she pressed back. "I think you've had enough detective work, Ms. Cabot."

Alex demurred, pulling her hand away and arching her eyebrow. "And I've had enough of you," she said with a playful, but weak push against Olivia's leg. "Now go retrieve me a nurse and some morphine."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Last chapter coming soon...<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Alex studied the brownstone rising above her, its stone facade the color of burnt brick. Ivy crept around the front windows and trailed upwards, giving the narrow home an almost whimsical look compared to its stoic, shuttered neighbors. Alex had been no stranger to the comforts of a fine home when she was younger, but the places she had lived in since had been more on par with a dank cellar or musty attic. And a far cry from the Upper West Side.

"A far cry from Birdie's, isn't it?" Olivia asked, placing a hand against Alex's back.

"Who knew the women's movement paid so well?" Alex replied, her eyes grazing over the narrow stained glass windows nestled in the front door. "How exactly did you manage to convince Nan to let me stay here?"

"I mentioned that you'd meddle in everything from the way she organizes her office files to how she hangs her coats, and she jumped at the chance." Olivia hid a smirk, reaching into the backseat of the car. It was a loaner, and had nothing on her Plymouth, but at least its interior wasn't covered in blood. Slim was right; the stains were a nightmare.

"Did you also promise I would cook her meals?" Alex retorted playfully.

"No, then I'd never get you back." Olivia slid one of the bags towards her.

"The doctor said no heavy lifting." Alex's reminder floated behind her.

"He told _you_ not to do any heavy lifting. If I recall, you were unconscious when the doctor was patching me up."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I'm beginning to think you were unconscious when the doctor gave you instructions. You haven't even been wearing your sling."

"Because it's uncomfortable." She slammed the car door, gripping the handle of Alex's suitcase with her left hand.

"That's not a reason."

"Okay, it's unfashionable," Olivia tried, opening the black wrought iron gate. "That's something you should understand, no?" She motioned Alex toward the front steps.

"You are so stubborn, you don't even make sense sometimes, you know that?" Alex surmised as she made her way slowly up the front steps, stabilizing herself with one hand on the wide limestone railing.

Olivia grabbed her other arm, gently guiding her. It had a couple of days for Alex to even get out of bed, and a couple of more for her to take more than a few steps around her hospital room. "Easy does it," Olivia said, measuring her pace against Alex's. "Just a couple more steps."

Alex couldn't help but chuckle, even though it sent an unpleasant pull through her still tender side. "Olivia, I'm sore, I'm not blind." At the top of the steps she paused, exhaling slowly.

Olivia fished the key Nan had given her out of her pocket and unlocked the door. "Looks like you could use some more aspirin."

Olivia's words were lost on Alex as she took a step inside the door, pausing to admire the entryway to what served as Nan's formal headquarters. Although Alex had expected something more formal than Birdie's, her lips parted in awe at the space Nan had created. A sofa and three chairs sat in a small room off to the side, and pamphlets, newsletters, and books littered the coffee table, as if a group had just left. Framed posters of campaign paraphernalia decorated the walls, some recent, some dating back thirty or so years to the height of the suffrage movement. "Wow," Alex breathed, taking a step into the open room at her left, where rows of chairs sat facing a podium, as if waiting for one of the women on the posters to enliven the room with a speech.

"Nan's office is in the back," Olivia explained, setting Alex's bag down at her feet, taking a small break. "The apartment's upstairs." She paused, studying Alex's midsection. "Think you can make it one more flight?"

Alex laughed, bypassing Olivia and heading toward the stairs, her gait slower, but still confident. "And what if I couldn't?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and letting her fingers just barely graze Olivia's injured shoulder. "Would you carry me?"

Footsteps echoed from the back of the house, and Nan appeared, giving them both a wide, welcoming smile. "You've made it," she said, her green eyes filled with a curious enthusiasm as she glanced at the suitcase Olivia carried. "One bag?" she asked, perplexed. "You must have let Liv pack for you."

Alex laughed softly. "There are two more in the car, but I wouldn't let our poor damsel here lift them," she said, placing a protective hand on Olivia's back.

Olivia raised a finger to disagree, but Nan waved her off. "Don't worry about it, I'll get them myself. Alex, make yourself at home. Vera got your room all settled for you; it's the second door on the right. She's usually here in the mornings, so if you need anything at all, she will give you a hand." Before Alex could offer a thank you, she scurried down the front steps, the silk of her skirt fluttering around her legs.

Alex noted the row of framed photographs that lined the stairs, and she studied them, hoping they offered some glimpse into Nan's personal life, which always seemed just out of reach, masked by her business-like demeanor. The photographs were portraits of women, some Alex recognized as pioneers of the women's movement, all of them looking composed, their lips in fine, tight lines across their faces. "Most people have pictures of their family along their stairs," Alex observed, pointing at one of the portraits.

"Technically, these women are family," Olivia laughed, more than familiar with the women that lined Nan's walls.

Alex looked down at her, surprise etching the corners of her eyes. "All of these women are lesbians?" she asked, both eyebrows raised.

"Card-carrying."

Alex pointed to one photograph. "That's Margaret Sanger. I've seen photographs of her husband."

Olivia nodded. "And I've seen photographs of her lover."

"Do you think her husband knew?"

Olivia continued to usher her up the stairs, reminded of how new Alex was to their small, but close lesbian community. "Nan will give you the guided tour, complete with all the gossip," she promised. "That's not my forte."

"You don't strike me as the gossiping type," Alex admitted, pausing at the top of the stairs to give her a grin.

"I don't kiss and tell, either," Olivia said lowly, a playful edge in her voice as she backed Alex carefully down the hallway, sliding her inside her new room. Before she could take advantage of Alex's parted lips, the blonde had caught a glimpse of the room, and her attention was immediately thwarted.

"Wow," Alex sighed, circling in place and taking in the paintings that adorned one wall, made even brighter by the sunlight angling in from the windows. The room wasn't large, but it was grander than her old apartment by a mile. Most of her things would easily fit, with the added bonus that she wouldn't have to pass her nights listening to johns moan from the apartments next to her. "This is wonderful. I don't know who to thank more: Nan, or you for convincing Nan to let me stay here."

Olivia sidled closer to her. "I'd be happy to accept any gratitude on her behalf," she said, finally achieving her goal of connecting with Alex's lips.

They parted, but their foreheads still pressed together. "I wonder if Nan has a policy on overnight guests," Alex murmured softly.

Rather than reply, Olivia kissed her again, making up for the lost hours she had passed watching Alex sleep in the hospital. Alex deepened the kiss, enjoying the privacy. The touches she'd come to rely on from Olivia had been fleeting in the hospital, where nurses, orderlies, and doctors would surprise them at any moment. A sharp pain in her side finally made Alex rear back, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "That felt really good," she smiled. "Until it didn't. Pesky gunshot wounds."

"You sit," Olivia said, pointing to the bed, which was covered with a leaf green blanket. "I'm going to make you some tea." She made her way down the short hall towards the kitchen, bypassing the bathroom and a small sitting room, where the chaise still rested against the window, just as Olivia remembered. The kettle sat on the stove, a tin of tea bags in the cupboard beside it. The kitchen was Vera's domain, and Olivia had learned the hard way never to interfere with the Ukrainian housekeeper's domain, or else feel the sting of a wooden spoon across her knuckles.

She had barely filled the kettle before she heard Alex's bare feet pad into the room. "Alex, you need to be in bed."

"You can't keep me in bed forever," Alex replied, her cheeks only blushing when the words floated between them.

Olivia placed the kettle onto the stove, lighting the flame. "That's a shame," she said with a smile, sharing a quick look with Alex.

A door closed downstairs, and Olivia heard Nan's heavy heels clicking on the stairs, her voice echoing up the hallway as she walked toward Alex's room. "For such a fashionable woman, you certainly pack light."

"In the kitchen, Nan," Olivia called.

"Nothing ever good comes from you in the kitchen!" Nan's voice reached them from the room, and Alex suppressed a chuckle as she lowered herself into a chair beside a wide kitchen table.

"Vera left some things for lunch in the refrigerator," Nan informed them as she stepped into the room, adjusting a button on her emerald blouse.

"Oh, I'm not hungry at the moment," Alex clarified, her appetite having yet to recover from the rubbery relics that passed for food at the hospital. Her attention faded as she caught a glimpse of the day's newspaper atop a pile of unopened letters, the image on the front capturing her attention and spiraling the rest of the room away from her. She recognized the dark eyes and slick gray hair, but it was the smile that sent a paroxysm of fear through her, stiffening her shoulders. Nan's voice sounded again from the doorway, but the words muffled in her mind; she only saw her stepfather leering up at her from the front page.

"Alex?" Nan put a hand on her rigid back, pulling her attention away from the headline.

Olivia followed Alex's gaze toward the paper, and she let out a small curse. She had seen the paper that morning in the waiting room of the hospital, perusing the story for any mention of their names, a daily ritual that had become as familiar to her as gulping down a cup of low-grade hospital coffee. So far, they were still in the clear. Sam Thorne, however, was scrambling, attempting to clear both his name and rescue his son's image. She recalled the headline clearly: _DA Thorne and ADA Son - Caught in the Crossfire._

Nan kept a hand on Alex's shoulder, attempting a casual tone even as she tossed a concerned glance at Olivia. "Samuel Thorne is pulling out every excuse in the book to save his job. If he's doing that, it's because he's in real danger of losing it."

"The media seems to be buying it," Alex said, flipping the newspaper over.

"The media buys anything that sells, sweetheart," Nan reminded her. "That doesn't mean anyone else is buying it."

Alex turned, pressing a hard look at Olivia. "We need to talk to Elliot," she said. "He knows about the arms shipment, and I guarantee Sam knew what Robert was doing. He's been covering up for Robert for years. We can ask the woman who works for him. She knows the paper trail."

Nan glanced quizzically from Alex to Olivia, her mouth dropping open in a surprised circle. "What arms shipment?"

"Never mind, Nan," Olivia answered, brushing her off and attempting to stifle whatever creative ideas were about to rail from her assistant. "Alex, none of that matters now."

Alex narrowed her eyes, a look that Olivia had come to know and dread. "Of course it matters," she countered, standing and taking a few deliberate steps toward Olivia to accentuate her point. "He's just as culpable in all of this as Robert and Jack Spade."

Olivia was all too aware of both Alex's and Nan's eyes on her, a fixation that she wasn't particularly fond of in any situation, much less in one where she was attempting to keep both of them from acting rashly. "Alex, the best thing you can do right now is let all of this blow over."

"So Sam Thorne just gets to martyr his son and walk away."

Olivia met Alex's eyes, more than aware that the pain she saw in them had nothing to do with the DA's media ploy, and everything to do with how he'd helped destroy her life over the years. "Robert's not walking away, though, you made sure of that. Isn't that all that matters here?"

Alex reeled, the words packing an almost violent punch. There was a minuscule shake of her head, but then she turned, brushing past Nan and disappearing down the hallway. Olivia put her head down for a moment, cursing under her breath. She may have put a lot of thought into her actions around Alex since they'd left the hospital, but the words coming out of her mouth were another matter.

"What arms shipment?" Nan asked again, walking briskly toward her and pointing a thin finger into Olivia's chest, her green eyes ablaze with an unspoken accusation. "I agreed to host Alex here because I thought you told me everything I needed to know." She pressed harder. "What are you not telling me?"

The last thing Olivia needed at the moment was to have another woman angry with her, and she grabbed Nan's finger, kissing its tip. "You're always so beautiful when you're paranoid."

The attempt at charm only made Nan angrier. "Maybe I should be paranoid for the both of us," she said lowly, her eyes darting toward the hallway.

Olivia put a hand to her head. "Nan, we already went through this."

"Apparently, we didn't go through all of it. What arms shipment?"

"Robert Thorne and Nicky Burns sabotaged a shipment of guns at the docks."

Nan tossed her head in disbelief. "And what, you and Alex just happened to be there?" Olivia gave a reluctant nod, making Nan's eyes widen incredulously before she dipped her head, putting a hand to her temple. "Where are the guns, then?" she asked.

Olivia sighed. "If you would just ask questions that I knew the answers to, both of us would be a little less frustrated right now."

"Okay," Nan said, accepting the challenge. "Here's one: How far down the rabbit hole are you going to let this girl take you?"

"Oh come on, Nan, you've helped a ton of girls before - "

"Not like this - "

"All those prostitutes that waltz into Birdie's, all those women you think you can save with a little feminist education - "

"I wasn't in love with them," Nan hissed, exasperation humming through her.

An angry laugh bubbled from Olivia's throat. "Okay, now I see where this is going."

Nan rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Olivia, you may be an expert at reading criminals, but you can't read a woman to save your life. This has nothing to do with us. Alex had polished your ego so hard you can't see anything beyond her. And she can't see anything beyond her past." She took a step forward, lowering her voice. "You know what that does to people."

"Yeah, I do," Olivia snapped, but she exhaled, trying to control her temper. "I also know what it's like to have someone in your corner while you try to start over and scrap something out of a life that you didn't even think meant anything anymore." She took a step forward, staring hard at Nan, boring her own memories into her. "Do you remember what it's like to help someone like that?"

Nan looked away, her teeth catching her bottom lip, and Olivia knew her point had hit home. When Nan looked back after another moment, her eyes had hardened with resignation. "Go to her," she said, motioning toward the hallway. "I'll be downstairs in the office." She walked to the door, but turned back and motioned toward the tea pot, a softness in her jaw. "And don't forget to take her a cup of tea."

Olivia waited for Nan's heels along the stairs before she poured a cup of tea, contemplating making two, but thought better of it, wishing she had made coffee as well. Nan's words, no matter how out of line, struck something in her, and she needed to prove them wrong. Alex was stronger than she had ever been, but Olivia had seen hatred flooding through her in the moments before she shot Robert, the sound of the gunshot only confirming it. She knocked softly on Alex's closed door, waiting until a soft voice called her inside. As she closed the door behind her, Alex turned from the window, the fury melting from her features, but still hardened in her eyes. "That wasn't exactly the first impression I wanted to make," she sighed, taking a seat on the bed.

"I brought you some tea," Olivia offered, setting it on the bedside table and taking the opportunity to settle on the bed next to Alex, leaving a small space between them.

Alex looked at it, the steam rising in a narrow plume above the mug. "Thank you."

"Look, Alex, it's probably best to steer clear of the newspapers for awhile. Reading about all of this is not going to make you feel any better."

"You mean it's not going to make me forget." She stared straight ahead, focusing on an oil painting on the opposite wall, letting her attention get lost in a maze of impressionist flowers. "He doesn't get to get away with this," she said after a pause, her voice quivering with anger.

"Get away with what, Alex?" Olivia asked, but she already felt the answer creeping over her. This wasn't about dead girls in Skid Row, or an arms deal gone wrong. "With killing your father? Isn't that what all of this has been about from the day you started working for me?"

"It's about justice."

"Is it about justice or revenge, Alex? Jack Spade is gone. Robert Thorne is gone. You got exactly what you wanted."

Olivia saw her words stiffen Alex's spine. "Got what I wanted?" Alex scoffed, turning a pair of haunted blue eyes toward Olivia. "I still see Robert in my dreams every night. I feel him next to me. Killing him didn't get me what I wanted," she said, her voice stretched tightly.

"Then why do you think punishing Sam Thorne is going to make you feel any better?"

The fight went out of Alex's shoulders, and she slumped towards the bed, gingerly bringing her feet up behind Olivia and resting her head on the pillow. "Because it has to..." she tried, but Olivia could see the fight draining out of her, the last of her energy spent.

"Just let me take care of it," Olivia said, sympathy building inside her, along with a taste of rage at the cruel twist of fate that had brought them here. "I'll take care of everything." She leaned closer, brushing a smile against Alex's cheek. "I'll wake you up when it's all over." Alex didn't offer her usual rebuttal or stubborn refusal. She was silent, her eyes closing softly. Olivia was more than familiar with this kind of silence. After all had been said and done, the only thing left was grief.

* * *

><p>Days passed, and the media's obsession with the scandal only grew as theories were tossed casually around, some implicating Robert Thorne, others implicating his father, Samuel Thorne, as the mastermind behind most of the crime in the city. Olivia holed up in her office, the newspapers her only link to the investigation since she had avoided Elliot's phone calls for a solid week. According to Cragen, he'd visited the bar once or twice, each time while Olivia was wiling away the hours watching a drugged Alex sleep off any residual pain. The guilt weighed on her, but the case would eventually blow over, and the two of them would get back to normal; it was a hopeful lie, but it helped ease her conscience. As she sat in the small hole that served as a coffee shop down the street from her office, her eyes scanned another front page headline blazened across an abandoned newspaper. She plucked it up, taking a seat, her coffee still too hot to drink.<p>

"Should've known I'd eventually find you here. You can't make coffee for shit."

Olivia glanced up, splashing hot liquid across the paper and onto her hand. "Fuck, Elliot," she hissed, setting the cup down.

He took a seat across from her, plucking a few napkins from a dispenser and handing them over to her. "Funny, that's exactly the greeting I expected after over a week of you avoiding my telephone calls." His gray eyes narrowed at her, and whether it was from the sunlight streaming through the window behind her or his own suspicion, Olivia didn't know. "You disappeared on me, Liv. Want to tell me why?"

Olivia met his eyes, but only briefly, before staring back down at the brown liquid in her cup, which suddenly turned her stomach. She drank it anyway, hoping it gave her the courage to lie. "I've been laying low," she said. "After you guys took Johnny in, he wasn't very happy with me."

Elliot sighed. "Well, he should be pretty happy now. The whole black market scene has completely shifted. He'll be ruling the majority of the city now."

"I guess your Chief is pretty happy to be rid of Spade," Olivia surmised, glancing over at him. "You get a promotion out of this, at least?"

Elliot laughed. "Not a chance. The Chief is just scrambling to make everyone think that he was on the right track the whole time. But, we both know that was a load of bullshit." Elliot leaned over, picking up her coffee cup and taking a long sip. "I came by the office a couple of times. You fire your assistant or something? Or is she laying low, too?" He chuckled. "Or are you two laying low together?"

"She's been away from the office," Olivia answered, offering nothing more. A lone man walked into the coffee shop, fishing through his trousers and counting through spare change.

"Her name came up the other day," Elliot said casually, drawing her attention back to him. He pressed a finger against the headline of the coffee-stained paper. "Sam Thorne's been screwing over a ton of people, even her. His secretary came forward with a paper trail of corruption about a mile long."

Olivia swallowed. "Enough to put him away?" she asked, covering up any concern by taking another long gulp of her coffee. The caffeine buzz wasn't helping her nerves.

"Hell yeah. Thorne's got no more allies. Judges, cops, they're all staying away from him. Consider him toxic at this point." He stared pointedly at her. "Alex had filed a dispute with him over her mother's will. You know anything about that?"

"She may have mentioned it."

Elliot laughed, shaking his head. "Holy shit, Liv. How long have we been friends?"

Olivia narrowed an eye. "What, are you writing a memoir or something?" She stood, draining the rest of her coffee and tossing the paper cup toward the trash can. It missed. She had never been able to aim with her left arm, but throwing anything with her injured one was sure to elicit even more questions from Elliot. She stepped out of the shop and onto the sidewalk, the sun sending a bit of warmth through the cool air.

"In all the time we've been friends, you've never been this much of a closed book when it comes to women," Elliot pointed out, stepping in line beside her, measuring his long strides against her shorter ones. "Want to tell me why this one is so special?"

"I know all about Alex's legal run-ins with Samuel Thorne," Olivia began, giving him just enough to get him off her shoulders. "She's been through enough. There's no reason for her to get mixed up in all this."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Elliot asked. "She's working for you. She's already in the middle of it. I'm going to need to talk to her."

"She's off-limits, Elliot."

He laughed, tossing his head toward the sun. "I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend, Liv, I'm trying to solve a case." When she didn't respond, he grabbed her arm. If he had grabbed her good arm, she could have kept the lie going a little longer, but his grip pulled her injured shoulder and sent a spasm of pain running all the way up to her neck. She let out a cursed grunt and pulled away from him, balling a fist and reeling away from him, blinking back the pain. When she finally met Elliot's eyes, she saw that her cover had been fully blown. Whatever lies she'd been spinning the past week unraveled as he stared at her, a concerned, but also a hurt, look morphing his features. "What the hell is going on, Liv?"

She sighed, leaning against the wall, suddenly tired. "You're sure Sam Thorne isn't going to be a problem for Alex?"

"Liv, I'm going to be your fucking problem if you don't start coming clean with me." He motioned with his finger up the street. "We're taking a walk. As of right now, I'm off duty."

"Why's that?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes floating toward the shoulder that she was now favoring. "Because whatever you tell me, I'll be listening as a friend. Not as a member of NYPD. Got it?"

She nodded, meeting his eyes, grateful for the trust in them. "Deal." She stepped beside him, still nursing her shoulder, but for the first time in over a week, she felt the blanket of deceit lift, making her her feel a bit lighter.

* * *

><p>Alex awoke with a start, the suddenly jerk of her body making her cringe as she struggled to sit up, a throb emanating from the bandage across her midsection. She was panting, and the air hitting her clammy skin gave her a sudden chill, making her shiver. The dream was the same as it always was: Robert's eyes turning wolfish as he crept toward her, her skin on fire as he came closer and closer. Even when she awoke, she still heard the sound of the gun firing, as if her dream was merely meant as a reminder, a way of provoking of her waking memory into remembering what she had done.<p>

Alex moved the twisted sheets off her legs, placing her feet on the cold hardwood floor and reaching for her robe. Cinching it around her waist, she padded quietly out of her room and down the hallway. The apartment had become familiar to her over the past few days, and she needed no more than the dim moonlight to find her way to the kitchen sink. She filled a glass with water, drinking it quickly before refilling it again and sitting down at the table. Sleep hadn't been easy over the past week, and although she chalked it up to physical discomfort, she knew that wasn't the only thing that prevented her from closing her eyes. Robert may have been dead, but he was still very much with her.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, and the hall light flipped on, revealing Nan. Her eyes drifted automatically toward the figure in her kitchen, and she let the dim hall light guide her to the table. "Couldn't sleep?" She carried a few small envelopes, leftover business notes that always found their way to the kitchen table, littering its pristine top. It was a practice that irritated her housekeeper, but Nan never could leave her work completely downstairs. She slid one envelope over to Alex, taking a seat in the chair next to her. "This was in the mail today," she said. "For you."

Alex caught the address on the envelope, an address that she knew too well, having seen it on various pieces of mail littered around her father's desk when she was younger. He'd let her play with old envelopes, and she'd pretend to file her own important briefs, wanting her own tiny desk to mimic her father's. She turned it over, blocking the courthouse address. "Thank you," she managed, taking another sip of water, concentrating on the coolness it left in her parched throat. "Do you always work this late?" she asked, preferring to steer Nan's attention away from the envelope she was eyeing.

"I like to write," Nan explained, peeling off a pair of glasses and hanging them from her blouse. "Use my frustrations of the day to really squeeze out some subversive prose." She smiled. "When I write, I don't have to play by the rules," she continued. "I don't have to smile and nod politely when all I really want to do is shove my political capital up some legislator's ass and call it a day."

Alex appreciated the banter, which helped banish the memory of her nightmare. "You never know, some of those legislators may actually like that kind of thing."

Nan chuckled. "More than you know," she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. "So, Miss Cabot. What is your plan for when you're back on your feet? Olivia mentioned that you were considering finishing graduate school."

Alex had mentioned it once, in between naps, but hadn't had the wherewithal to think deeply about it. "This fall, perhaps," she replied. "I'm a bit rusty, but nothing a few weeks with some law volumes won't fix."

Nan nodded, her fingers tapping her thigh thoughtfully. "How long do you have left?"

"About a year."

"And you plan on taking the bar here in New York?" Even in the dim light, Alex could see an idea prickling behind Nan's eyes.

"That's my plan, yes," she confirmed.

Nan leaned forward, as if confiding some secret. "Listen, I'm looking to hire another team member. Someone with a legal mind to help navigate the waters of elections and politics. I'd love to have you work for me."

The offer caught Alex off guard, but, never forgetting her manners, she smiled graciously. "That is quite an offer," she said pensively, although she couldn't prevent the hesitant lilt in her voice.

Nan studied her, tilting her head before giving a slow, understanding nod. "An offer you don't particularly want," she said, employing the uncanny ability she had to read someone's intentions before they were known.

"Did Olivia ask you to offer me this job?" Alex asked, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

"I make my own personnel decisions, sweetheart," Nan reminded her, but she broke eye contact. "She mentioned it to me, and you seem like a bright, stubborn young woman. You'd fit right in." She sighed. "At least think on it a night or two."

Alex sighed. "I like the work that I'm doing. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed something like this."

"Is it the work you're enjoying, or is it Olivia?" Nan asked. She sighed. "Olivia is drawn to you in a way that she's never been drawn to anyone. And I wonder if it's because the two of you share the same darkness."

Alex swallowed. "Darkness?"

"A past that's clawed its way so deeply into you that you're darkened by it." The words twisted something inside Alex, and she felt her palms dampen as Nan continued. "It taints you, it makes your skin crawl in the middle of the night, and you hate yourself because of it." The green eyes that stared at her were calm, but cool, seeming to reach inside of Alex. "I watched Olivia overcome that. It took years. But now, I see it in you, and it frightens me for her."

Alex blinked back the wetness behind her eyes, keeping her emotions as stilled as she could. "I'm sorry you feel that way," she whispered, afraid if she were any louder her voice would betray the lump in her throat.

"Those dreams that keep you up at night," Nan pressed softly, sympathy drawing her lips into a frown. "The ones that make you call out Robert Thorne's name every night..." The marble in Alex's throat grew, becoming almost painful. "Olivia cannot protect you from those, Alex. She can't protect you from your own demons, but she will drown trying to help you, and I won't let her do that."

The wetness that Alex had been holding back somehow made its way down her cheek, and she raised a heavy hand, wiping a tear away as quickly and as forcefully as possible. "I think you've made your point," she managed, moving to rise from her chair, but Nan pressed a gentle, but firm hand against her knee.

"When did it start, Alex?"

The question made Alex stop breathing, the simple words unearthing a shame that was getting harder and harder to bury. "I didn't know you were a licensed shrink," she tried, but her voice wavered, losing its intensity.

"In my house, I can be anything I want," Nan replied, but a flash of compassion creased her brow. "Did you ever talk about it with anyone?"

"Of course," Alex said bitterly. "Samuel Thorne and I discussed it all the time." Her sarcasm stretched thinly, and she quickly reached up to wipe another betraying tear from her cheek.

"I know you've come a long way by yourself," Nan continued. "But, you're smart enough to know that you can't start over without acknowledging what happened to you. I know a woman, she's very discreet, but very good. I can put you in touch with her, just so that you can start talking about this with someone who can actually help you work through it."

"Why are you going out of your way to do all of this?" Alex asked. She knew about Nan and Olivia's past. She'd seen that connection play out in front of her. There was a love between the two of them that ran deeper than she liked, and at times she felt she was only skimming the surface of it.

Nan looked directly at her, meeting the suspicion in her eyes. "Because I love Olivia," she said firmly, but then she qualified her words with a shake of her head. "I don't love her in the same way that you do, Alex." Her voice softened for a moment, and a look of wistfulness passed through her, deflating her chest. "It's an old love, like a worn coat. You can't get rid of it, but you never wear it." She pulled her glasses from the collar of her shirt and set them on the table, the light glinting off the lenses. "But, I also want to help because you've got a spark in you, and it's not only Olivia who can see it. You will be okay, Alex. It will just take some time." She smiled tentatively. "And possibly some professional help."

Alex let out a shaky breath, appreciating the attempt at levity. "Have you ever seen this shrink?"

Nan averted her gaze for a moment, picking her glasses up from the table. "I've seen her, slept with her, and fought with her," she replied. "And I still recommend her." She stood, placing a hand on Alex's shoulder. "Try and get some sleep, okay?" she said, patting her shoulder twice before leaving the kitchen, her shoes echoing down the hall.

Alex pulled the large brown envelope towards her, fingering the edge of it with her nail, still unsure if she was ready to open it. Elizabeth Donnelly had almost assured her that her brief would be successful with any judge in Manhattan, but Manhattan didn't seem to run on merit. She exhaled, slipping her finger under the edge of the envelope and ripping it open. As her eyes gazed the letter, the print blurred, and the tears she had successfully held it while talking to Nan ran freely down her cheeks.

* * *

><p>Alex hadn't slept much after finally making her way back to her bed, but the few hours she had managed to squeeze in before morning were dreamless. She dressed fully, wishing she had asked Olivia to at least bring her a few more of her clothes, but she made do with what she had, slipping on knee-length skirt and a blue blouse. Opting for shoes without a heel, she stepped as briskly as she could down the stairs, attempting to shift her skirt lower so that it wouldn't interfere with the bandage just above her waist. She heard voices coming from the front room, and quickly gave up her efforts with the skirt, patting her hair into place. It had been more than two weeks since she'd made her way back out into the world, and she wasn't sure she fully remembered how to present herself to actual people.<p>

Nan and two other women glanced up at her as she came to a stop. "Well, you've certainly got a bounce in your step," Nan observed, giving Alex a welcoming smile. "Gertrude, Bertha, this is Alex Cabot. She's renting my upstairs room. Alex, this is Gertrude Klein, member of the Bronx City Council. We're scheming ways for Bertha here to win a newly vacated seat."

Alex nodded cordially at the both of them. "It's lovely to meet you both. Two women on the Council and the Bronx may make history."

"Here's hoping," Gertrude piped up, her wrinkled eyes squinting towards Alex. "Are you Bill Cabot's daughter, by chance?"

Alex felt the familiar drop in her stomach at the mention of her father, but she smiled through it. "Yes," she said proudly. "I am."

Gertrude nodded, raising a finger in the air to emphasize her point. "Now, he was a good man. Almost as good as any woman."

Alex chuckled, riding the small sense of joy she got from discussing her father, which she rarely allowed herself to do. "I'm sure he would appreciate that." She gave the three of them another nod, preparing her leave, but Nan raised a finger.

"One moment, Alex," she said, rising from her chair and motioning her towards her office. "Where are you headed?" she asked over her shoulder, patting a stray piece of auburn hair back into place.

"Nowhere special," Alex replied vaguely, hoping that Nan wouldn't press her any further. "But, if Olivia comes by, just tell her I'm getting some air."

Nan looked back at her as she stepped in to her office, knowingly narrowing her eyes. "Whatever you say, Alex." She fished through a desk drawer for a moment before extending a business card. "I meant to slide this under your door this morning."

Alex took the card, reading the name, and she glanced up at Nan. "Thank you," she whispered. "I will make an appointment with her."

"Of course," Nan replied casually, flipping through the notes on her desk before locating the one she needed. "One more thing: are you familiar with an Elizabeth Donnelly?" She arched an eyebrow. "She rang me this morning and mentioned your name."

Alex's eyes brightened. "I do know her, yes. And if you are still looking to fill that position that you offered me, I think you should consider her instead. She worked for my father for years; she knows the law like the back of her hand."

Nan nodded, slowly, pursing her lips. "Well, she either has an uncanny sense of timing or she's just lucky. Either one of those is a definite plus in this office." She raised a finger. "But, you'll be the one to tell Olivia you didn't take the job. That's not a battle I want to fight."

"Understood," Alex said with a smile. She brandished the psychiatrist's card once more before dropping it into her purse. "Thank you again."

"Of course." Nan rounded her desk and leaned in closer to her. "If you want to get away while you can, leave through the back. Bertha and Gertrude can talk for hours."

Alex smiled, giving Nan a quick wink before turning and making her way to the small back door, the sun only beginning to slice through the small alley. She turned her head toward the sky and exhaled, making her way toward the street.

* * *

><p>Cragen's car sat nicely at the curb outside the bar, and Olivia couldn't help but tap its hood as she bypassed on the way into the bar. Even though it was only midday, a few outliers littered the booths at the edge of the wall, doing business in the low light. "Well, look who it is," Cragen said, popping up from behind the bar, his requisite towel thrown over his shoulder. "Have a seat, I'll get you a drink." He pulled a glass from below the counter. "Maybe then you explain to me how I loaned my car to a beautiful blond and had it returned by a large toad."<p>

Olivia nodded. "I figured you'd wonder about that."

Cragen nodded, filling Olivia's glass with a dark Scotch. "I'm not sure if I should," he said lowly, glancing at the booths. "For instance, if my car were anywhere near that shoot-out between Jack Spade and Nicky Burns, I'm not sure if I'd want to know that." He gazed pointedly at her as he poured himself a drink, tossing it back. "And if that beautiful blond you hired was actually working with Spade or Burns, I'm not sure I'd want to know that, either."

"She wasn't working with either of them, Cragen," Olivia said, wrapping her fingers around the cool glass.

Cragen nodded slowly as he eyed her, his eyebrows arched. "So what you're telling me is that my car _was_ near Bay Bridge that day."

"We have everything under control, Cragen, there's nothing to worry about."

He didn't respond, and slid his used glass down to the end of the counter. "Where's Alex? I haven't seen her since that day."

"She's just taking some time off."

Cragen rolled his eyes, then reached over and jerked Olivia's half-filled glass from her hand. "Listen, Benson, you walk into my bar and accept a drink, you better damn be ready to tell the truth. Now level with me."

Olivia sighed. Chances are Cragen had already heard the rumors drifting in and out of the bar. "Alex took your car that day after we found a lead in the Skid Row murders. You know, the prostitutes?" She waited for Cragen's nod. "She got there before I did, and things got a little complicated. She took a bullet."

"She all right?" He waited for Olivia's nod before grinning. "She may not look it, but she's a tough broad." He reached for something underneath the cash register, and slid a copy of the day's paper over to Olivia. She had already seen the headline, had monitored the papers for the past week making sure the cops were going along with the narrative she and Slim left for them. "Looks like things are uncomplicated for the police. Maybe not so much for the District Attorney. But the Chief's getting his balls licked for busting open a corruption scandal the likes of which this city hasn't seen for awhile."

Olivia nodded. "Lucky for him, he's got no witnesses left. He can make up whatever he wants."

Cragen sighed. "Yeah, but this just means there will be a new scramble for power. A new world order in these parts. Unless Johnny slides in and takes over while he can. He's always wanted more than just the docks."

Olivia shrugged, then cringed, favoring her shoulder. "You mind if I get that drink back?" she asked, pointing to her abandoned glass.

Cragen slid it back over to her, his small eyes studying her. "You ladies sign up for matching bullet wounds, or what?" He refilled Olivia's glass. "There are less painful ways to impress a girl, you know."

They both looked over as the door opened. Slim squeezed his bulging frame through the entryway, a dark eye immediately noticing Olivia at the bar. "Well, look who's here," he said cheerfully, baring his coffee-stained teeth. He took a seat at the bar stool next to Olivia and it creaked beneath his weight.

"Let me guess, Slim, you're here to buy me a drink."

Slim snorted. "Yeah, with your money." Craven walked over to him, ready to offer him a drink, but Slim out his hand out to decline. "I'm just here on business, Cragen, but thanks." Cragen nodded, tossing his bar towel back over his shoulder and walking back to the end of the counter. "Speaking of business," Slim said, talking out of the side of his mouth. "I'd say we handled things pretty well as far as clean-up goes, don't you?"

"So far, so good." She slid her glass along the bar, enjoying the sound it made against the counter. "I bet you and Johnny are looking pretty had to find out where those lost guns are, huh?"

Slim shrugged. "Maybe. Thorne had to hide 'em somewhere, didn't he? I asked that pretty assistant of yours if she knew anything about it, but she ain't saying anything. A bullet through the gut didn't seem to change her a bit."

Olivia's slid glass once more, but this time didn't bother to stop it as Slim's words registered. It kept sliding, until it clinked against a metal napkin holder. "What did you say?"

"Blondie. Upstairs. She told me you hadn't been to the office today." He pursed one side of his lip. "Although if you're trying to avoid the job, maybe you want to drink someplace that ain't right underneath it."

Olivia shook her head as if shaking water out of her ear. "Alex is upstairs? In my office?" She stood, shaking her head and throwing a couple of bills on the table. As far as she knew, Alex was in no condition to be out, much less at the office, much less at a job that had almost gotten her killed.

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?" Slim asked, scratching his chin. "Handle your broad, Benson. But I'll be back tomorrow for the rest of that deposit."

Olivia had already turned toward the back staircase, but she gave him a nod over her shoulder. She tried to dampen her anger as she walked, but each step only lit another flame under her, and she had to pause and exhale slowly outside of her own door before opening it.

Sure enough, Alex sat perched at her desk, which was as just as organized as it always was, as if she'd never left. Alex smiled at her, and for a moment Olivia forgot about all of the reasons she had feared her assistant coming back to work for her. "I brought coffee for you," Alex said, gesturing towards Olivia's open office door. "It's on your desk."

"You want to tell me what you're doing here?"

"I'm working," Alex said simply. "Last I heard, you hadn't fired me."

Olivia took a couple of steps closer to the desk, exhaling in order to rid herself of the slow irritation bubbling in her gut. "Alex, we discussed this."

Alex looked sharply up at her, ready for an argument. "Actually, I don't think we did. You may have discussed it with Nan, but you definitely didn't discuss it with me."

"You're telling me that you turned down the job Nan offered you?"

"I turned it down because I already have a job."

Olivia's eyes darted towards the ceiling. "And even if you did still have a job here, which is still up for discussion, what makes you think you need to be back at work so soon?"

"I can only stay cooped up for so long, Olivia."

"Then go for a walk, Alex. Sit on a park bench, for crying out loud, and watch people. But, don't come here." Her words were harsher than she meant them to be, and she quickly backpedaled. "I thought you were going back to school."

"I am, but not until the fall." Alex placed her hands on her desk, as if claiming her territory. "Until then, I'd like to continue working here. I finally got my life back - "

Olivia cut her off with a disbelieving wave of her hand. "Your life back? Alex, you almost lost your life. You're acting like you took a bullet to the brain instead of your gut."

Alex's eyes darkened. "No," she refuted, shaking her head. "No, Olivia. Having Robert haunt me every single day, that was losing my life. I'm not some dumb broad, I know I have a long way to go in starting over, but I want this - " she gestured toward the room - "I want all of this to be a part of it."

Olivia averted her eyes for a moment, and they caught the glint of Alex's pocketwatch. Her father's watch. Her father had been District Attorney of Manhattan, and there was no reason his daughter should waste her time hanging around a two-bit private detectives office when she was surely destined for better. And as soon as Alex got a taste of school, and of a normal life, she would realize that and leave as quickly as she came. She buried that fear, and used her last defense mechanism: power.

"What if I decide I don't need an assistant anymore?"

Alex balked at the question, but quickly recovered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We both know that's not the case," she countered. "This place was a complete mess when I got here this morning."

Olivia scanned the room, noting the smallest of touches that Alex added: Flowers on the top of the small filing cabinet that sat next to her desk, her long, slim coat hanging on the rack by the door, and the small mirror that sat next to her typewriter. She had come to count on them, as reminders of the warmth she felt when Alex was around. For the second time that week, she felt her last defense give way. "What if I decide I don't want such a stubborn assistant anymore?" she asked, the first sign of a playful smile twitching a corner of her lip.

Alex hid a grin of her own. "Well, then we may have a problem."

Olivia slipped her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it onto the chair in front of Alex's desk. Alex stared pointedly at it. "Do you mind hanging that?" she asked. "I don't believe that qualifies as heavy lifting."

Olivia rolled her eyes, but as she moved to pick up her coat, she saw the type-written letter laying on Alex's desk. "What's that?" She pointed, but then leaned over and slid it closer, scanning it quickly. "You got the will overturned," she said, her eyes widening. "You got the estate."

Alex nodded vaguely, reaching to take the letter back. "I got everything. The house, the estate, all of it."

"You don't seem particularly elated," Olivia observed.

"I'm selling it," Alex stated firmly. "The house, at least."

Olivia gave her a half-nod. "I can see how the place can be a little traumatic," she offered. "Considering what just happened."

Alex shook her head, pushing away from her desk and busying herself by flipping through a stack of files. "It's not just that. All the memories that come with it, Olivia, they're toxic. I don't want them anymore. I don't want the good memories, I don't want the bad ones, I just want to forget about that place." As she spoke, her painted nails flipped even faster through the files.

Olivia knew what was happening. She'd seen it before, this complete denial of the past. She'd run from her past, too, but it always caught up with her. Most of the time it caught up with her as she stared at her own reflection, and wondered about the monster she'd never met who'd given her the lilt of her upper lip, her square jaw. The past wasn't something that you just let go; it was inside you. "Come here," she said, extending her hand to Alex.

Alex seemed surprised by the gesture, but for once she didn't question her, and let Olivia lead her into her office. Once inside, she let go of Alex's hand and walked to the small record player she kept in the corner. She had listened to the same record on repeat for the last week, another one of the small touches that reminded her of Alex. "You have to let the memories come, the good and the bad, or else they'll rip you apart." She flipped the record player on, taking the needle in her hand. "You can sell the house and start over. But, do it because you want to, not because you're afraid of going back. There are always things worth remembering." She let the needle drop, and the music floated softly, almost as if it were catching a breeze from the open window behind her desk.

Alex's shoulders tensed as the horn line began, followed by the tune that was so familiar to her.

_"You've made me happy today..."_

She closed her eyes, letting the music drift warmly through her, conjuring up both memories and a deeply sated sense of the present. "I didn't know you had this record," she said softly.

"Technically, it's your copy," Olivia admitted. "I grabbed it from your place while you were at the hospital. I just wanted to hear it again." She hummed along with the melody, extending her hand again. "Want to dance?"

Alex's peered over at her, caught off-guard by the question. Olivia was even caught off-guard herself, but she never estimated what she'd do for a beautiful woman. "My moves aren't exactly what they used to be," Alex answered. "A gunshot will do that to a girl."

"Even better," Olivia retorted, taking her hand. "I'm a horrible dancer."

This got a soft chuckle out of Alex, and she bowed her head, hiding her smile, but glanced coyly at Olivia. "Okay," she said, nodding. "Show me your moves."

Olivia wrapped her arms gently around Alex, swaying slowly, smiling when Alex slid her arms around her waist and let her head rest on her good shoulder.

"You're a good swayer," Alex murmured against the collar of her shirt. Her breath sent a slight quiver through Olivia's neck.

"I've won contests," Olivia teased. Something about being as close as she was to Alex made her tongue a little looser, as if she was drunk off just her scent. "I missed you," she offered lightly. Alex was quiet, and for a moment Olivia hoped her words had been lost in the music.

Alex leaned back, just a little and smiled. "Good," she whispered, before closing the space between them and pressing her lips lightly against Olivia's. After a moment, she deepened it, letting her tongue do the work that her body couldn't. Her tongue eased its way across Olivia's cheek, then to a spot just behind her ear, before placing her head on her shoulder once more.

"I can afford to pay rent now," she said lowly, fingering the collar of Olivia's shirt. "Which means, I can afford to have guests..." she smiled imploringly, raising her head.

"I say we put in a half day here at the office," Olivia replied quickly, edging Alex toward the couch.

"And what will we do until closing time?" Alex whispered.

A loud knock startled both of them, and Alex braced herself with both arms against Olivia's chest. She cleared her throat, attempting to regain the professionalism she lost while Olivia's hands roamed over her body.

"Hello?" called a feminine voice, as the outer door clicked open. "I'm looking for a detective..."

Alex used both hands to straighten her blouse, moving quickly toward Olivia's door. "One moment!" she called. She turned back to Olivia, a finger pointing to her cheek. "Wipe my lipstick off you," she whispered harshly before regaining her composure and walking into the main office.

Olivia laughed as she heard Alex offer a more formal greeting to their new customer, and she peered into the mirror above the small sink. She wiped away the remnants of Alex's kisses and gave one last look at herself in the mirror, surprised by the brightness of her own smile.

"Duty calls," she said, already anticipating her next case, and hoping like hell it was nothing like the one she'd just had. She'd take housewives over mobsters any day.

**Fin**

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><p><strong>Thank you all so much for reading. It's been remarkable how this little community has kept this story going. Thank you for all of the kind words and the great motivation.<strong>

**I'm having such fun in this little AU-verse. Is anyone interested in more?**


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